You Should've Stayed Silent
by The Wolf That Got Away
Summary: In 2017, NASA sent a message into space, looking for intelligent alien life. In 2019, something responded to the message.
1. Chapter 1

**What Happened Before?**

 **Year 2019, somewhere in the Sol System...**

"Master."

"Harbinger."

"We have some important news."

'Clarify."

It was strange to have so many enormous ships gathering in the backwater star system, chiefly because no one would ever try to explore a system so low in Element Zero that one could say the whole place was not worth the money and effort. However, something was different... perhaps there's something which existed where they don't belong, or that something happened the way it shouldn't have.

The Harvest, which was temporarily bothered by what the ships assumed to be 'Prothean manipulations', but quickly discovered and fixed by Nazara, was fairly easy to execute. Thanks to what the organics referred to and relied upon as the 'Treaty of Farixen', the lesser organic races were not able to mount a significant resistance to the Cycle. Their seemingly indifferent and distrustful politics only hastened their downfall as more and more of the aliens began to display fatalistic outlook to their fate. Whole worlds were delivered into the hands of these giant sentient ships, burnt and twisted and charred, leaving nothing but broken ruins which will be swallowed by nature some five centuries in the future. But in the end, life goes on. Life will always go on, just like the machines and their Cycle of Harvest.

It was not until the 'clean up' time after all of the lesser races had been culled that a signal was detected in space. Was it a distress signal or a distraction to the machines? Did it come from a spacefaring race, or a young, clueless and gullible race?

Still, despite the fact that their invasion was already complete, Harbinger felt the need to investigate the signal, as per his 'employer's words'. It took him to this... star system in the middle of nowhere, with a frozen Mass Relay and literally zero amount of Element Zero. As soon as he arrived, he had his kin to investigate everything out of ordinary, including what appeared to be a ruined 'settlement' on a lifeless red planet.

"The Protheans apparently owned an outpost close to a garden world of this system. This barren red planet hides an underground facility used by the subjugated civilization 50,000 years ago in an attempt to study the young sapient race which inhabits the garden planet close to it.

"The name of the species is Homo sapiens, their scientific name according to the global network used by these so-called Humans."

"That hardly seems like a trouble."

"Incorrect."

The mysterious employer, at the moment its servant vetoed the previous notion, shifted its attention on what Harbinger had to say.

"We are certain beyond any doubt, master, that the organics in question were the ones who sent the signal we've reported after the Harvest on the Quarians were done."

"What were their intentions?"

Harbinger sent his secretive employer a diagram of sort which seemed to be the human's way of communication. It detailed a series of information related to the Humans, such as what they were, where do they live, and most importantly, the Humans' desire to know that they were not alone in the universe.

"Do they know you are there in the system, or having even a slightest idea that something is out of place?" The unknown entity demanded.

"Negative. For whatever reasons, they no longer cared about space."

For a split second of uncertainty and discomfort, Harbinger was sure that other ships behind him were exchanging uneasy glances with one another, if only they had to visualize it in their network. They knew very well that a potentially problematic condition was laid bare before them. On one side, they were programmed to refrain themselves from attacking young and primitive species. In the other hand, it was their duty to Harvest every sapient lifeform capable of space voyaging, including those that were very close to being one.

The employer, noting the silence among its servants, held back from saying anything.

"Unlike the Asari, which enjoyed the benefits of being the Prothean's pet project, these Humans compensated the lack of guidance from any spacefaring race by being very inventive and naturally curious. According to their 'internet', the previous ten years of their existence saw a particularly large interest in astronomy-related developments, and they predicted that space travel and colonization will be available to them in twenty years or so. Nonetheless..."

"They do not have guidance in any form, not even a beacon." The employer seemed doubtful.

"But they will find one, or want to find it in their desperate attempt to solve their global crisis."

Confused as to what this global crisis was, Harbinger forwarded a series of news floating around on what the Humans called 'internet'. That one certain information package spoke of a frighteningly destructive situation, known amongst the organics who narrated it, as the 'World War 3', some kind of global war which devastated at least two separate places on their planet, now revealed to be Earth.

Behind him, Harbinger could sense, almost literally, some of his kin trying to peek into the files and live recordings of this World War 3.

" _Pitiful creatures..."_

" _You are joking. These vermin should've known better..."_

" _Shall we just leave them to their fate?"_

" _Ascending them at this time might be problematic."_

"No." The employer suddenly spoke right into the ships' communication network. As the fleet carefully connected their network with it, the mystery employer elaborated its decisions to have the human species Harvested and ascended into several of them, but allowing the fleet to decide what form they want the Humans would become. When asked why, the shadowy entity explained, or rather helped them to remember, that some eighty nine million years ago, two species once waged war as chaotic as the World War 3 they were talking at the instance. The two races decided to expand their respective wars to the stars, annihilating so many worlds, including three garden planets (the worst case being the planet Dhenallia, which eventually transformed into one big steamy rock) which incurred the wrath of the employer. It didn't take too long for the rest of the fleet to understand why their master asked them to Harvest the Humans. Better to eradicate them now than to let them spread and destroy other worlds, too.

As a comparison, the wars waged by the two extinct species required around fifty years to become too damaging for their society. The Human's World War 3 achieved the same level of ferocity in only a year and three months, according to galactic calendar system.

" _So..."_

" _What orders will you impose, master?"_

"All I ask is that all of you will stop them by whatever means necessary. If you must, you may choose to turn them all into new Collectors."

"Are you afraid that they might learn about what befell the Asari and all who followed them?"

"I'm afraid that we could be at risk of being ceased permanently. For the Humans to be this brutal without Mass Effect technology, without the evolutionary path that we implemented for every sapient life... The implications aren't in our favor."

The silence that followed in her wake wasn't a sign of mourning or disloyalty, but of obedience and agreement.

"We serve the Cycle."

"And the Humans will learn that it's better to become one with us, rather than continuing what they're doing right now."

The die had been cast. It was decided, and now there was no turning back. Harbinger and his kin served the Cycle well, and they will have all of the Humans to obey their social order, one way or another.

However, there was one more thing that needed approval...

"Master, shall we attempt to greet them or begin ascension straightaway?"

Harbinger's contact apparently was dumbfounded by such a question, that all of the mechanical beings beside Harbinger began to whisper to each other.

" _The eldest one is right. What do we do?"_

" _They are young, but sufficiently advanced for a planet-bound species..."_

" _I disagree with any contact attempt, but..."_

" _I don't care with first-contact. How many are we going to Harvest?"_

Judging from the chatter between the machines, the majority of them scowled upon the idea of performing first-contact with any race they were going to ascend. After all, they were all synthetic construct with proper mandate hard-coded into their being; Harvest any sentient lifeform, primarily spacefaring ones which has grown beyond the boundaries of their homeworlds. First-contact situation was obviously out of the question.

Their master's response was, for the lack of a better word, astounding.

"You may choose to introduce yourselves if you so desire. As for the number of ascended Humans, it depends on how many do you need, and as I said, what forms will you require from them. As of this Cycle, you all have gained 5 prime forms from the Asari and Turians, and 10 scout forms Harvested from Quarians, Salarians, Drell combined with Hanars, and Batarians."

What would come to pass for the inhabitants of Earth then?


	2. Chapter 2

**What Happened Then?**

 **February 23rd, Year 2019, Planet Earth...**

"Thousands of people are massing everywhere, from Washington DC, New York, Arkansas, Florida; even Las Vegas is reported to be incredibly crowded with rioting people, who demanded explanation from the government..."

"Presidents and Ministers all over the world are about to hold an emergency meeting at the UN Headquarters in anticipation of a possible first-contact scenario..."

"The number of people demonstrating before the White House is staggering..."

"Militaries across the world are being reassigned from their previous posts to suppress the growing civil unrest..."

"The United Nations is currently engaged in a rapidly-escalating debate..."

"As of now, people appear to suddenly forget that World War 3 is still far from over. This might be true considering that..."

"Conspiracy theorists are swiftly gaining momentum as they use this startling historical moment to spread their ancient aliens' belief, or anything related to government-related conspiracies..."

"None of the most powerful people on Earth have any idea on who should be the spokesperson for Humanity..."

"People everywhere are being instructed to not engage in anything that might provoke an interstellar war with the alien visitors..."

"Oh my God, can you believe that? NASA said the alien ships were massive, and shaped like squids, too! I can't imagine what..."

"It's like nobody even remembered WW3 anymore! What in the world is happening?"

 **-x-x-x-x-**

 _In December 2017, a number of audacious scientists, astronomers, and linguists affiliated with NASA launched a decidedly dangerous secret project, which involved sending a message to space in hopes that an intelligent species with benevolent intention might read it and communicated with Humanity._

 _The reasoning behind this unexpected mission was the justified fears of the approaching World War 3, as many had propagated all over the Earth. Something, anything, must be done in order to stop mankind from tearing itself apart._

 _True enough, sometime around March 2018, the war finally begun, taking the lives of twenty five million people four months after the first shot was fired by North Korea. In the following months, tens of millions have fallen from both sides as the planet slowly deteriorated._

 _People everywhere were acting differently. Those who lived far away from the conflict, simply treated the war as some kind of sick entertainment, to the point of betting on who'd win the conflict. Those who lived close to the area of conflict, or having their homes severely damaged from the war, were pitched in a struggle to escape the growing chaos as their lives could be ripped away at any moment. Friendship and common decency suddenly forgotten, and money lost its meaning when bombs and mortars were dropped from the sky. It was easy to fantasize what kind of skirmish the refugees were facing; after all, you weren't there when all that mattered to you abruptly reduced to ash._

 _Humanity believed the ends of times were at hand, but the scientists at NASA didn't. In desperation, they started to send more and more message into space; each message was fitted with plea for help. They were literally begging for somebody, anybody, to save mankind from extinction._

 _One year later, the scientists finally learned, after so much internal strife to keep themselves hidden from their enemies, that Humanity should've stayed quiet and ignorant to the universe, lest the nightmare from the void hears them._

 _Approximately one hundred alien ships bearing various shapes and sizes, though uniformly black in color, appeared around Earth's orbit, inciting widespread anarchy in virtually every nation. The aliens broadcasted themselves as the "Reapers", or so they named themselves based on the culture of an extinct extraterrestrial civilization 50,000 years ago. Whether they were the remnants of this vanished culture, or were they the ones to terminate it, or simply playing some twisted drama on Humanity, no one could say._

 _Nobody knew if these aliens were going to help them find a peaceful solution to the war, or to subjugate them whilst they were occupied with the conflict._


	3. Chapter 3

**One Last News to Report**

 _(This journal was found lying next to a torn-up makeshift camp near an unspecified river. Its writer was nowhere to be found, as with the rest of the camp's settlers.)_

 **-x-x-x-x-**

 **February 21st, 2019**

Oh my, this is going to be my best day ever! I mean, it's not like you can get juicy stories about real UFO encounter every day, right?! My partner Eric and I were so excited beyond measure when NASA finally announced it.

Oh wait, I probably should try to write everything in detail here. My name is Lisa Peterson, a young journalist from Baltimore, and the reason why am I writing on a freaking notebook is because both of my beloved smartphones broke down after the previous skirmish near Chicago, where allegedly two Afro-American men were wrongfully accused of assisting spies from Iran. The subsequent riots were not pretty in the slightest. Now, with my phones out of order, and my boss suddenly demanding my presence in New York, I have no other choice but to document every single info on paper. My coworker, Eric Samuel Norton, is pretty much a workaholic and a blabbermouth. Can't understand why the guys in the office asked me to be his friend.

So to spill the milk a bit, the aliens revealed their presence around our planet's orbit two days ago, I think, And the world went mad like in an hour. The streets were full of people, some of them were welcoming the aliens, others were insulting them, and a few crazy ones are still preaching about doomsday.

Heh, don't tell Eric if any of you read this. He's a conspiracy theory lover.

Better yet, don't speak anything about a man named Harlan Johnson in front of him.

Oh, damn. We're supposed to leave in fifteen minutes.

 **-x-x-x-x-**

 **February 22nd, 2019**

Lisa here, still can't believe the uproar I was tasked to investigate and later document.

Eric is outside, recording the scenery which has recently cleared by the masses. Garbage is everywhere, and... No, maybe I should tell you about the stores.

Now I realize what kind of bull- sorry, I don't want to swear in my book. It's just... Look, I'm not a politician sympathizer; I simply never thought that demonstrations could be mentally exhausting for the ones doing it and the ones being affected by it as well.

I'm currently holed up in my cheap hotel, so I'll try to explain things without too many details; one, the United Nations' representative refused to answer any questions thrown at him. He only responded to a question, 'What kind of future awaits Humanity?'. I do not know who said it, bt the representative nodded and said "We intend to open our first-contact scenario with peaceful presentation to the extraterrestrial visitors". After tha, he quickly fled into the UN's Headquarters.

Two, our president, the president of the goddamn United States, doesn't seem thrilled to have aliens visiting us. If anything, he looked absolutely unhappy. The Russian president was visibly disturbed, too. Only those from Asian countries are hopeful, or so their faces showed us.

I dunno, maybe our president thought the UFOs are going to help North Korea or something.

Remember, World War 3 just started last year. And what a year it was.

35 million people dead in ONE YEAR. Another 5 million dead from hunger and disease.

If the 'visitors' decide to invade us, how many will die in a week?

 **-x-x-x-x-**

 **February 23rd, 2019**

Okay, we just got some good stuff! Our contact in Washington said the world's leaders are going to try communication effort to the UFOs. Hopefully they'll understand the meaning and won't try to blow us into ash.

Eric here is bumping on his chair all day, typing on his laptop like a 10 years old kid who just got his first bicycle. When I went over to have a chat, he pushed me away, but not before I got to see what mumbo-jumbo he's gotten himself to.

Guess who if it wasn't that Harlan guy who spouted ancient alien crap on his personal blog and Youtube. Bah, what a loser.

Maybe this afternoon, I can speak to Mrs. Cornwell or that HRD guy Quinn. They'll realize their mistake for putting me with Eric.

Alright, I've got my camera and

 **-x-x-x-x-**

Oh my God.

Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.

This isn't happening. This must be some April mop jokes right?

I... I didn't know what happened. One moment everything was fine and then an explosion was heard and then other explosions followed.

I can't contact Eric. He's nowhere to be found.

Fuck. The lights went out right after the first explosion, and now they're flickering just like in those horror dramas. What the hell is going on?!

 **-x-x-x-x-**

 **March 19th, 2019**

Hey diary.

Sorry I started so crappy. I've been trying to survive with Eric for weeks, far away from the city where the 'Reapers' came landing on Earth and bulldozed everything using their red lasers.

I wish I could explain all that we endured during our time fleeing, but... Our memories were kind of hazy. Not all is what they seem. Ok, enough rambling, time to share the story.

So, when the first explosion hit, the entire NYC went dark for an hour. At first I thought Eric ran away from the room, but he turned out to be hiding under a table. By the time the lights went back on, the roads outside were full of people pouring out of the surrounding buildings. All those assumptions about earthquakes or terrorist attacks went completely out of the window when those things made their landing on Earth and let loose a horde of cyborg aliens from their hulls. Eric pulled me back into the hotel and we hid there for hours as people were being butchered. No... butchered isn't the right term. I think, and Eric agreed, that the cyborgs kidnapped everyone and... and brought them somewhere. God knows what the aliens were doing to them.

We had to make sure they were gone entirely before making our escape.

What happened later made Eric cursed in whatever foreign language he could speak.

Most, if not all of the roads leading to and from NYC were melted. He had to step into his car's pedal hard enough to stop. Um, it wasn't his car; we stole it to get the hell out of the city. And with the roads melted, we had to find other way out on foot.

We couldn't get information of any kind. Phone lines were down, the internet is down, and because of the earlier attack, and no one was around to help us. We tried raiding stores and storages for anything useful. Food, tents, satellite phones, guns... whatever we could get our hands on.

As we tried to leave, some of those things came back. One was a feminine beast covered in strange blue light and was FLOATING IN THE AIR! Others who encircled her were avian in nature, with bird-like legs and snouts with mandibles. They were all covered in metallic armor, and maybe some cybernetic body parts. I can't remember exactly. We made a dash for survival before they could properly give chase. And now, here we are, hiding in the woods. It's not large enough for us to hide, but ENOUGH to throw off the monsters for a while unless they come back.

Back then, science-fiction writers made sure to include a happy ending into their alien invasion stories.

Now? I'm not so sure if we'll get a happy ending. After all, the war was still not resolved, at all.

 **-x-x-x-x-**

 **March 25th, 2019**

How did we learn of the aliens' name, the Reapers?

It's a bit convoluted. We can't figure out who said it first. Some said the UN and NASA publicized to us their name sometime before the Reapers attacked. Others believed the UFOs chose to call themselves that to strike fear into those in their way.

If only that scary moment happened in a more laid-back situation, all the bloggers and journalist will be happy to make all kinds of meme, just to poke fun at the invaders.

Once again, the hardcore conspiracy theorists tried to convince the ignorant population that the Reapers are really doomsday instruments from God, designed to punish us and bring about the Rapture. Eric, while still faithfully listening to these types of broadcasts, couldn't help but commenting loudly on them.

As we walk across the ruined Earth, we found plenty of weapons scattered on the ground. Eric doesn't know how to use them; he's only able to use handguns, not stuff like rifles and shotguns.

I myself can utilize a pocket knife, but that's it.

 **-x-x-x-x-**

 **April 3rd, 2019**

Good news. We've reached a fairly rundown town, with a friend of Eric's

The bad news? The town was picked clean. No foods other than biscuits, no communication devices, not even clean clothes. Even those sneaker boxes lying on the ground were all empty. Tch, can't believe there are people who cared more about sneakers than their lives. We no longer needed our smartphones, so we just... threw them into trash bins and tried to move on, uncertain with our fate.

Just like us, Eric's friend is as clueless as we are. What did we do to deserve this? Did the Reapers assaulted first, or did someone provoke them to invade? We could spend countless hours debating it, but in the end, we are journalists, not politicians. Our arguments won't solve anything.

We were convinced that someone is to blame, but I can't help but think more frightening ways for mankind to end.

We should've kept those weapons to defend ourselves from aliens, not using them to start a war.

 **-x-x-x-x-**

 **April 14th, 2019**

Finally! We found a working radio!

Eric and his friend spent early morning trying to fix the damn thing. But in the end, they succeeded! We can call for help!

Of course, we also need to be careful. Since the aliens are obviously sufficiently advanced, they might be able to hack into our transmission and hunt us down. I told Eric about this possibility, and he agreed wholeheartedly. Huh, apparently, ever since returning home from Mexico, he had been a bit paranoid about people spying into his personal life.

Perhaps the Reapers forced him into reliving that concern again.

Look, I don't want to leave this notebook, but I'm too optimistic to care. Maybe we can find somewhere to hide and preferably outlast this invasion. My best hope shall go along whoever found this book. With any luck, you will be able to add your own experiences should you stay alive long enough to write anything in here.

Ah... Sounds like Eric managed to get the radio working. I am so freaking scared of what we might hear, but we also know... It's our best chance of finding help.


	4. Chapter 4

**End of a Trek**

 _(This journal was found in a storage room, with its doors smashed open from the outside. The book was lying surrounded by empty bullet casings, a jammed handgun, and a blood-splattered hiking boot.)_

 **May 2nd, 2019**

I'll try to write as efficiently as possible 'cuz I hate writing on paper so much, except on my tablet, which I sadly lost in the commotion.

I won't bother trying to write my full identity here. Who's going to read it, anyway?

Name's Luke, 26 years old. I'm an avid hiker and photographer. I was just getting back to my hometown when a fucking loud horn was heard above us. I thought it was an air-raid siren we use on California and its adjacent areas, or an airplane was shot down by something...

Huh, who would've guessed that UFO is really real.

...except there was a hundred of them, and we are really under an alien attack. Goddamn it.

 **-x-x-x-x-**

 **May 5th, 2019**

I found this book not long after I bolted from my town. I was standing there, in the main avenue, with countless senseless idiots who thought it was just a show.

I'd be happy to have this diary book as a gift to my babe; instead it ends up being mine. My tablet was knocked off my hands when I used it to record the alien ships landing on this freaking planet, and then every witness just turned tail and ran. Their hulls were wreathed in red thunders. I didn't even bother trying to find the tablet.

Oh wow. If only we could befriend them. I'm a tech-whiz at times.

Who knows? Maybe weeks of hiking in the wilderness finally made me disconnected with the world's latest news. Either NASA already notified us about this, or they didn't.

Right now I'm hiding in an abandoned shack near my favorite trekking path. From what I've gathered, the shack's owner made a run for it, believing the aliens to be demons. In a way, I think he's right. Damn.

I didn't even have time to change my equipment. My rations went out after the last hiking session and the shack merely provided me with little nourishment. My cherished camera ran out of batteries, and my clothes were damp after running away under the rain. If I can't find clean outfit and survival kits soon enough, I'll be as good as dead.

 **-x-x-x-x-**

 **May 8th, 2019**

I'll never forget this day.

First off, it started fairly well. From the distance, I could see those giant alien ships blasting my town and any visible settlements with their red beam stuff. I don't know. It was cool to see sci-fi weapons in real life... and not cool at all when said laser guns are being used to blow you up. Poor bastards, I'm not a social guy, but I do hope that anyone living in or near the decimated places got out in time.

As I continue my trek, I could see numerous people fleeing in the same direction as me. At first I thought 'cool, maybe we can be buddies in disaster together', but then I saw some fucking alien robots chasin' after the ones left behind. I think robot isn't the right way to call them, as they still have what appear to be skin folds and teeth. Damn it, maybe my eyes were fooling me.

I didn't have time to admire their sick features, so I ran deeper into the forest, doing my best to remember the safest pathways across the woods.

I kept running and running, how I wish I wasn't that stupid.

My items fell without me noticing, like my water bottle and my lucky charm.

When I did stop, I no longer knew where I was. Now I'm stranded in an unexplored part of the woods. Worse still, my left hiking boot had its sole split in various places, while the shoestring on the right boot snapped. I can't just wander around in a goddamn forest without appropriate footwear.

But even now, I'm still wondering about the fate of those who ran with me. Did they make it to safety or not?

 **-x-x-x-x-**

 **May 9th, 2019**

I've got some good luck, which I should be thankful of.

I managed to spend the night hidden beneath a large, twisted tree, waiting in fear for the monsters which ended up not coming at all. In the morning, I carefully took time to observe the area, just in case those fuckers are still around.

I found none, so I tried to walk further into the forest.

I made the right choice. There's a kind of torn and abandoned camp in a clearing. Better yet, there were several clothes left behind, most likely by its owners who also tried to escape the aliens. Still no phones or any communication tool, but I got enough survival equipment to last me a week. I also found a replacement pair of boots, yay!

As I rummaged the camp for more clues, I discovered this map which circled three areas not far from here. Ok, all of them are far, but I'm a seasoned hiker. I can walk there, provided no aliens are following me.

I've wasted all morning walking here slowly on my sock-covered feet, and took all day of searching the abandoned camp for things. It's getting dark now. I better prep my dinner.

 **-x-x-x-x-**

 **May 28th, 2019**

Hello again, diary.

Don't try to applaud me. I'm not in the mood to make jokes.

I flipped through my journal and was surprised to see the last entry being three weeks ago.

It's time for me to be a little more open about my experiences.

One day after I settled on that empty camp, I collected all that I had and went out to my newfound destination. As I carefully placed my feet in the silence woods, I came across more and more people, the very people who sought refuge in the dense green place like me. Oh, how I wish I saved them some prayers. Almost all of them were dead, from gunshots and other injuries. I was in shock over my own condition that I pillaged their dead bodies for whatever I needed to stay alive. Guns, food, spare clothes. Hell, I don't know why I'm still carrying stolen clothes from them in the middle of summer until this very moment. I looked into the sky and realized why...

The Reapers blacked out portions of our sky, ensuring that nuclear winter scenery is in full effect. No sunlight means no heat, and the cold can kill you if the winter comes.

I did meet injured survivors, but their situation was beyond my help. Gaping wounds, bleeding heads, even broken legs... I was trained in first-aid assistance, but with no first-aid kit in person, I couldn't do anything...

I even had to steal new boots from a freshly-deceased man because mine got busted from walking around for merely 3 days. Fuck this, man.

As to why I learned the name Reapers, I gotta write it down too.

About that safe spot circled in the map, yeah, I got there to find the whole place in rubble. Apparently the Reaper monsters located it first, then they... I have no idea what they did to those who were here earlier. That's when some guys in big jeeps arrived to save me. They were also looking for more assistance and anybody who require help.

The convoy's leader, Joe, said they were all that's left of their team. I'm guessing he was referring to _black ops_ division of our military, owing to the fact that their gears are so fancy, even by US Army standards. Needless to say, he took pity in my situation, despite me not asking for help, and let me join his group. He has 10 soldiers under his command, as well as 2 young doctors, a hacker, 5 language translators, and a particularly useless cop who doesn't know how to survive in the wild. All this cop does until this day is to fret about things, especially when it goes to a man named Harlan Johnson, a conspiracy truthers he said.

Joe taught me how to shoot, how to unjam a gun, and how to scan an area for potential threats. I'm no soldier, but years of trekking in the wild seem to give me an advantage.

As we journeyed through the charred landscape of our beloved nation, we found more signs of battle, including cybernetic bastards left behind by those Reapers. Joe, or Captain Joey as his friends called him, said the Reapers introduced themselves to NASA in February, back when I was backpacking to the American South. They claimed to be answering a secret SETI message broadcasted by NASA into deep space, and as a result, Humanity is paying the price for their cursed science.

The United Nations, according to Joe, attempted to present themselves as the best and brightest aspect of Humanity, only for someone to fire a nuclear warhead to one of the Reaper ships as soon as they made their first landing on Earth. Some accused the Russian president for that incident, while others blamed ours for it.

Now look at what happened to Earth.

Heck, I don't think we can call it Earth anymore.

 **-x-x-x-x-**

 **June 1st, 2019**

I have a bad news.

Really, really bad.

We were closing in on Georgia when a small Reaper ship landed a mile away from us. The ship noticed us almost immediately, while we tried to steer clear from the main road. Good thing too, as the beast used its laser to melt the road, both in front of us and behind us to cut off any escape attempt.

Our jeeps crashed as we swerved away from the main road. One was blown up in an instant, while the others had their passengers getting out safely, including me and that bastard police. We rounded up those still breathing and got away as fast as our feet can carry us, but it was no use. Our number dwindled rapidly when the Reaper unleashed its horde of nightmares. I was so certain that my mind was fucking with me...

But every time I sleep, I can see that big floating jellyfish monster accompanied by shrieking alien women in blue light.

I don't want to remember, but I have no one to talk to.

We left that police to fend for himself while we ran. Once again, I found myself running to avoid the aliens. The soldiers gave their lives one by one, until all that left was Joe. I never had a chance to thank him for all that help and companionship.

He told us to stay together while he fought off the blue aliens. We didn't heed the advice.

And look at where it led me. An empty farm in the middle of nowhere.

 **-x-x-x-x-**

 **June 4th**

How many days has it been? Three? I've stopped counting since yesterday.

I've finally run out of water. No more food but stale milk and rotten pork.

The lights were flickering ever since morning. Now the sun has set and

No

nonono

The door's pounding. They're outside the door.

This is Luke Vaughn signing off. I'm sorry.


	5. Chapter 5

**Overly Subdued**

 **August 2019, Earth, United Nations HQ**

Harbinger gazed upon the charred ruins of what was once a prestigious building complex. An international headquarters for the most respected ambassadors of the Humans, according to their internet.

The claim didn't seem to have an agreeable sound. To him, 'respected' might as well be connoted with 'feared', judging by the ambassadors' choice to direct a nuclear missile at him, and lack of response to the outcry of their kind. Harbinger was certain that none of the puny organics intended to do such actions. Their undignified politicians, on the other hand...

He shifted his gaze to the horizon. What the organics mentioned as the 'New York City' had been largely leveled to the ground. Across the planet, countless large cities were besieged as well, in retaliation to what the Reapers perceived as 'antagonistic greeting' to the 'benevolent' interstellar visitors. With their plan to gently and subtly indoctrinate mankind into subservience thrown out of the window, they immediately switched into plan B; annihilate the species for being too dangerous to let loose. Originally, there were only one hundred ships assaulting Earth. It was not until last month that the eldest one demanded another two hundred Reapers of the destroyer class, or scouts as the master called them, to install processing chambers for twenty million captured Humans in their grasp. Some of the trusted Reapers requested permission to sweep up the more rural areas, a request Harbinger kept unsaid.

"Harbinger."

"Master Catalyst."

The shady employer from before had chosen to initiate communication in the silent moments.

"How are the Humans?"

"There were 7.5 billion members of the species and were slowly climbing before the World War 3 began. As of now, there are 5.3 billion of them remaining, with roughly 80 million died from their war, over 2 billion perished during the Harvest, and several millions being processed as we speak."

The Catalyst processed the newly arriving information as Harbinger supplied it with videos and printed archives stolen from the internet.

"Overly subdued." the Catalyst replied curtly.

"Pardon me?" The eldest one wasn't paying attention close enough.

"The species is too oppressed. Your Harvest should've preserved more of them, if possible having two billion individuals processed into your preferred units, and many of the rest can be utilized as new Collectors. Your tactics instead inflicted more casualty than necessary."

At that point Harbinger realized his folly; he didn't hand over the evidence of the Human's treacherous first-contact protocol. The employer's cold and calculating mind, upon the arrival of more data from its most experienced servant, quickly examined the information. What could've caused the fleet to bend the rules a little too far?

The rules, as stated some time ago, declared that no planet-bound races are allowed to be conquered unless they are very close to being a spacefaring one. And if such an event occurred, all participating units were to discuss whether or not the species in question should be ascended entirely, or have their people reduced to pre-industrial society.

What had happened on this planet, then?

The answer unveiled itself as the Catalyst read further. It was the ungrateful organics who fired the first shot, with a large missile containing 25 kiloton nuclear power. Harbinger and a small fleet of six ships, who landed on a land mass named 'Alaska' at the planet's northern hemisphere, took virtually tiny damage from the strike, but was suitably infuriated at the action. None of the appropriately-titled representatives were willing to apologize for the 'inconvenience' and calmly reiterated what was meant to be a generous salutation to the Reapers. All bets were off when Harbinger ordered his fleet to retaliate by leveling the largest, most-populated cities into the ground and have their inhabitants rounded up for Harvesting. What was unsettling was the fact that his fleet picked the most brutal decision; wanton obliteration of the species by both direct assault and environmental poisoning, detailed by Harbinger to be a worldwide winter, where the sky would remain dark and cloudy until years to come. For reasons unknown, the fleet's leader prevented the rest from ransacking pastoral areas, most likely as a respectful sign to the garden world. Who knows? Even the recently arriving scout Reaper ships were quickly called back to designated operation zones, forced to cease their hunts in whatever countryside places the units visited.

After minutes of uncomfortable silence, the conversation between the servant and his employers finally went up again.

"I see."

"Is that all? No comments on behalf of my supposed incompetence?"

"No. No new orders will be given until Earth year 2021, when the units Harvested from the Humans are ready to join the fleet."

"What of the rest?"

"Due to their... complicated status, I'd suggest you to send them back to hunter-gatherer level of civilization, although pre-industrial level is acceptable, as long as they remain planet-bound until the next Harvesting schedule is ready."

"The ones crowding in the countryside might be a problem. Shall we have them destroyed?"

The Catalyst appeared to be thinking for a while before answering, slowly, "Perhaps not. Let them overcrowd areas and squander resources. That should be enough to stall their societal progress."

Harbinger made a quick mental note to keep the young Human race alive but restrained adequately until, let's say, the next time the Humans and the Reapers meet again, when both would be strong and advanced enough to wage a space battle. He also noted one thing which gave him a calming thought; the future Cycle and Harvest could prove to be a healthy challenge. In this Cycle, the Asari's reluctance to prepare an army great enough to bring down the Reapers became their downfall. The all-female species foolishly put all of their faith in diplomacy; that somehow they could be spared from the Harvest, if only to live on as slaves. The other races were no brighter than that. The Salarians, with their highly rational but impersonal behavior, took perilous chances to study Reaper technology, hoping to harness the power for themselves. Indoctrination was what they received at the end. Other species except the Turians chose to flee, making the Cycle especially easy to clean up. It was a good thing; what with the Prothean's Cycle costing them some three hundred prime units and fifty five scout/destroyer units, and almost three centuries to purge the ambitious, militaristic species from the galaxy.

Once again, the die had been cast. One way or another, they will have plenty of Human destroyers among their ranks, while those left on Earth would know how difficult life could be for primitives. With any luck, they would learn from their mistakes.


	6. Chapter 6

**Winter is Here**

 **August 28th, 2019**

Grey.

That was the entire panorama one could see these days. Everywhere you look, you'd just find more grey color. The sky was grey, the roads were grey... you get the point. That, and snow soiled with ash. It felt like the Earth had died, as if the sun finally grew bored of the blue and green planet, and chose to just waltz away. Sure, every morning the sun would shine through the murky cloud, but with the environmental damage caused by the wars, one could assume that winter was already here. At some places, fires still burned wildly, casting dark shadows which blotted out the sky. In other areas, the fires finally stopped burning, but in their wake, pale ash began to spread on Earth as cold, dry wind scattered it all over the scenery, indiscriminately.

If you look at the landscape, you'd notice that every building, every large-scale settlement, every semblance of civilization had been nothing but crumbling rubble, as if an angry giant decided to lash out at everyone and everything and forgot to fix all the damage. All those monuments and towers men had built with all their power and wealth, at this point, were nothing but remainders of how the mighty Humans had fallen from grace. It was easy to blame this on God, as easy as shooting a stranger on the street for money. But will it change anything? No.

And that was what motivated Lisa Peterson to keep going.

Thankfully, she was never alone.

 _She was alone. She knew not what to do. Where was she? If only her friends were there with her..._

 _It all happened so fast. Not long after they used the radio, they successfully contacted someone, a policeman most likely, to come and save them. Eric took Lisa and his friend Randy closer to a nearby glade, hoping that the rescuer would be able to see them. It was a good choice, had the three of them waited a little longer..._

 _Out there, she could spot familiar shapes. Those cybernetic birds again, except this time they were all holding small firearms, and without guidance of any aliens in blue aura. Lisa and Randy panicked; both were no longer possessing weapons. Eric, not noticing the discouraged expression of his friends, made a mistake by creeping further to the aliens. The sound of tiny twigs crunched under his sneakers, however small it may be, alerted the grotesque birds at their location._

 _Everything then became a blur. One moment Lisa found herself running away from the aliens with Randy and her dastardly companion, uttering curses for their botched escape plan. The next, she slid into a slope, experiencing a feeling of dizziness as her mind slipped away, the aliens were too busy following the two males fleeing like deer into the denser part of the clearing..._

 _When she did woke up, she..._

"Lisa?"

The young journalist shook her head; someone was calling her. It was Joe. Of course, being the fatherly figure of the new group, he made it his priority to keep his companions safe and ready to act at the first sight of danger.

"I'm fine."

"You look like you had a nightmare."

Caught off guard, Lisa could only stammer "I... it's nothing, sir, I thought... Never mind." She then turned her gaze to the river in front of her.

Joe, being the seasoned soldier he had been all this time, quickly recognized the girl's thousand-yard stare. It was a familiar sight. He himself used to stare far into the horizon, doing his best to hide his sadness and disgust at the world's pitiful state, even more so during the Reaper invasion. He wanted to sympathize with her condition, but for her sake, Joe must stay strong.

The mood was too gloomy to start a meaningful conversation; the soldier had to admit it. A soft huff escaped his lips as he rose from the girl's side, wanting to rest inside his tent. Before he could move, Lisa looked straight at his eyes and muttered "Thanks for the help."

"...What?" Joe raised his face. "I was thanking you... for all that trouble saving me."

Joe's mind wandered into his memory upon her words, recalling the time when he, bruised and battered, took whatever chance he had to flee from the attacking aliens. Running through the woods, wading the rivers, climbing trees, he put his skills to good use to escape the aliens, until the Reaper ships from earlier called them back, leaving Joe in confusion. That was when he found the journalist, frightened, injured, still wearing tattered clothes...

"I didn't... I didn't know where they were..."

"Hey."

"I never wanted to believe they are dead. Yeah, I hated Eric for being childish and too bouncy, but I am certain beyond any doubt..."

Joe put his finger on Lisa's lips, stopping her from talking. "It is not your fault." Joe said with clarity. He knew, based on Adam's opinions, Lisa had nightmares and unable to communicate properly. Earlier in their encounter, Joe could see that she was delirious from dehydration and injuries. Her blank stares whenever she was alone convinced the soldier that she needed help, immediately.

 **-x-x-x-x-**

 **September 5th, 2019**

Silence.

Lisa never thought she'd understand what silence truly meant, but now, there she was, experiencing the loudest silence she ever knew.

No birds singing with their distinctive echoes, no cicadas filling the woods with their sounds, and even the wind refused to flow between the branches and bushes. The forest felt... lifeless, or worse. Just like before, _just like the cities and towns_ , Lisa swore the forest's ambient sounds must have been muted ever since the Reapers occupied the Earth. What happened with the previously magnificent place? Maybe Mother Nature recognized the sheer magnitude of the Reapers' influence over the ruined world. Was that the true purpose of those aliens? To spread darkness, despair, and chaos wherever they went?

Day by day, Lisa, still accompanied by Joe and Adam, marched across the United States which used to be better. But fate was not one to willingly lift burdens. Broken and abandoned rescue shelter became a common sight for them. Insane survivors would try to corner them, demanding for any tools they have. Lisa and her companions always fought back, of course. Oh, and once in a while, some of those 'banshees', 'marauders' or 'cannibals' as Joe called them would appear here and there. When THAT happened, fight or flight ended up being the most urgent concern, regardless of how tired or hungry the trio was.

Days passed, then weeks. Have years gone by? Neither of the three cared to ask.

They only had two major goals by now; work together, and survive.

Lisa was doing well in fighting her depression, particularly so when Adam was anywhere near. There was an unmistakable bond that developed between them.

" _Sir, I found a dogtag."_

 _Two weeks had passed after the two of them met. Ever since the fateful day, Lisa provided the captain with as much intel as he had regarding the invasion, just as Joe dragged her into discussions on what truly occurred within the first hours of first-contact with the aliens stating themselves as Reapers. It was nice, having a veteran person from the most tight-lipped sector of the United States to chat with. But his presence wasn't enough to mask the void left by Eric._

 _Lisa served as Joe's second pair of eyes, with her ability to spot out-of-place objects or occurrence. Today, she located a dogtag abandoned on the forest floor._

 _The owner of said item was a 'Lieutenant Adam Johnson Ryder'._

" _Damn it."_

 _Cued by Joe's cussing, Lisa bolted after the soldier, apparently fixated on finding something... or someone. The leaves-covered forest floor little by little became evident with sights of battle. Massacre probably was the correct term, judging by dead bodies of Humans and robotic aliens alike, marauders from what Joe told her, enough to made Lisa emptied her stomach on a nearby patch of grass. Joe, meanwhile, carefully swept his eyes on the surrounding, looking for whatsoever that interested him..._

"Hi."

Adam's voice always brought a smile on her face. "Looks like my buddy is willing to hit on me."

"Me? Ahh, no... I just thought you want to sit with your best friend right now." Lisa scoffed, "Oh, really? Are you sure you don't need help with your leg?"

Eyeing down, Adam simply hid his left leg away from her. "Nah, I'm fine. I'm stronger than you think. I'll be fine." _Wow, Adam. You really are a sweetheart, aren't you?_ Lisa's mind swirled with emotion. His face and physical features were so perfect, according to her taste. She wanted to keep her mind straight, to continuously find new ways to survive in the increasingly hostile Earth, but with Adam accompanying her all the way, his sweet voice, handsome look...

" _Captain, look! There's somebody lying under the birch tree!"_

 _Lisa's urgent whispering snapped Joe back to his senses. He gazed at the direction Lisa pointed and focused his eyes. Could she be mistaking a branch or... No, there was definitely a man! Wasting no time to discover who it was, Joe darted into the secluded spot, with Lisa following close behind._

 _The sight that welcomed them was... gut-wrenching, in a sense._

" _Oh my God."_

 _In front of them was Adam Ryder, laid half-conscious but still alive on the ground, moving dazedly without his awareness. What miracle, Lisa whispered in her head as Joe performed first-aid assistance to keep the other soldier alive. He seemed fine, albeit bleeding from small cuts all over his torso._

" _Lisa, take a look at this." Joe directed his flashlight for the journalist to see. Adam's left knee was bleeding and twisted. A bad sign, Joe concluded. They might not be able to move him to a safer place, and even if they could, they'd be putting themselves at risk of discovery by the Reapers. The woman, mistaking Adam's twisted knee as a fracture, prepared a splint for him just as the calm soldier stopped her, explaining swiftly what aid should be performed._

"Well, let me know if you need me to carry you around like a baby." Lisa mocked with a smile. Adam could only fluster at the sight of his gradually flirtatious friend. _She really is doing well_.

 **-x-x-x-x-**

 **October 8th, 2019**

"Okay, can somebody tell me where we are right now? I want a sense of direction."

The cool air of October seemed to prophesize one thing; the arrival of autumn, and with it, thunderstorms. Seemingly unaware of this, Lisa was still fairly sleepy that she didn't see Adam walking up behind her tent.

"Huh?"

"Oh, you're still asleep?"

"No, no, I'm awake. I'm just trying to get used to my daily schedule." Lisa groggily woke up, only to fell back when her head and Adam's hit each other. "Ow! Bah, don't poke your head into my tent, babe!"

Adam's giggle made things a little too intimate, and maybe too intrusive. "Eyy, don't blame me for waking you up. It's now 7:45 you know. Besides..." He didn't get to finish before Lisa shove him out with her hands.

"Go out, now. Do your old man a favor. You can't go peeping on girls so early in the morning."

"It's captain, not old man." Adam corrected her.

"Whatever."

Even in the face of the apocalypse, Adam sure needed humor and friendship to keep his face straight. Good thing nobody noticed what he and Lisa just talked about.

Captain Joe, on the other hand, wasn't so convinced.

"So... another day of flirting with the youngest one?"

Adam felt his face turning red. "Sir, will due respect, flirting and fraternizing are two different things." Being reprimanded by his captain was pretty much a weekly routine for Adam, but most of it was frequently done at night. Why Joe picked this morning all of the sudden? As far as Adam understood it, they were no longer soldiers. Heck, maybe the Army no longer existed as of now. Code of conduct be damned.

Lisa, on a brighter note, found this chat to be a perfect distraction. Her eyes briefly glanced at her notebook, a somewhat new notebook she scavenged from a slightly wrecked store.

As the voices of her male comrades slowly faded away, Lisa crept closer to the book. Reaching it with her right hand, she flipped open the book's beige pages, reminiscing over what she wrote recently.

Recollection of her surfacing memories after Joe rescued her, the latest updates on the Reapers' occupation of Earth, and alien lifeforms dominated and twisted under the Reapers' experimentation were all reserved on the front half of the book. Several pages later were lined with survival tips and tricks, such as how to fix broken machines and guns, and how to distinguish edible food from poisonous food. A couple of pages at the back were left for Lisa to write down her feelings over her new lifestyle and her infatuation with Adam. Sometimes, the young lady went out to stargaze if the sky was clear, fantasizing what could've Humanity done should they band together and explore the stars. Maybe they'd witness extrasolar civilization constructed by other species. Maybe new scientific divisions would be discovered. And maybe, just maybe, all those alien species would've stood alongside the Human race to bring down the Reapers. Lisa, despite the progressively difficult life as a survivor of war, remained adamantly optimistic of her species' survival.

But the notebook still had plenty of pages left, even though her pens were running out of ink. Enticing herself with the prospect of writing about the wildlife in their immediate camping area, Lisa dressed up and got out of her tent.

Yep, as expected, the old man was enjoying his cup of coffee. How the hell did he find and make himself a coffee was beyond Lisa's understanding. She then turned her attention to the younger man approaching her. His tan-colored combat boots contrasted with his otherwise brown and black outfit. Even with his indistinctly crippled leg, Adam still looked tough and charismatic. Both stole a glance at Joe, who appeared hellbent on staying out of any boyfriend-girlfriend problems.

"So... what did he say to you?"

Adam ran his hand over his buzz-cut hair, obviously uncomfortable. "Well, uh, we better ignore that for now. We were planning to continue our trek tomorrow. You see, there's gotta be a road somewhere close by that'll take us to the North." At the mention of the supposedly-existing road, Lisa instinctively realized something familiar... and ominous.

"To the North?" Lisa repeated, responded by Adam's nodding, "Are you positive that it won't take us to the West, instead? You're probably wrong, right?"

"What's in the West?"

"I think that's where the largest Reaper currently resides."

Oh, fuck. There was no other safe way out of the woods except that road. If they traverse it, they might as well walk straight into the clutch of the Reapers. What did they do now?


	7. Chapter 7

**Blue December**

 **November 30th 2019, Great Britain, Plymouth**

Stale.

Doctor Weirton Quaid refused to believe it. Since when did the air inside his underground laboratory turned stale? He swore in the name of Heavens that the air conditioning rarely, if ever, broke down or malfunctioning. Or did the sensation came from the glass of water on his table?

Casting his sight away from the mounting paperwork in front of him, Dr. Quaid exhaled loudly; thin vapor escaped his mouth like pale white ghosts. Had the temperature dropped so low lately? Considering all that had transpired on the forsaken planet, Dr. Quaid was positive the answer is 'yes'.

 _Those goddamned aliens..._

The disillusioned scientist hoped for a miracle. He would give anything to just walk away from this, to let the world burn while he himself disappeared elsewhere. Not here, working in a cramped underground safe haven, with never-ending paperwork and testing stuff...

Back then, at a time when the world was in a relatively unsettled peace, Quaid took pride in his job. Nothing difficult or pressing, he supposed, just mediocre research into computing and commerce. Back in high school, his strongest subject was biology, but due to his family's inability to afford college tuition, Quaid had no choice but to shift his expertise to computation, out of frantic resolve to keep himself living pleasantly and well fed. His life from 2013 to 2017 was fulfilling, albeit to a lesser degree. To his work partners, he was merely a happy-go-round man, never the one to worry about the fluctuating state of Britain's economy.

Then World War 3 broke out. Business went down thanks to rapidly escalating inflation. Family and friends were torn apart, unsure if they should stay with each other or take off to safety. The middle-aged doctor prepared a plan in mind in the event when evacuation was imminent.

Then the Reapers showed up, rendering the planet in 'lockdown'...

Quaid, who turned to booze to drown his depression, found himself infatuated by the prospect of first-contact event with extraterrestrial entity. Willfully forgetting his financial complications, he wasted hours to no end searching and reading every single information regarding the aliens on Google. It seemed like the aliens picked the name 'Reapers' just to sound cool and badass to the Humans.

A week later, he learnt why man must fear that name.

An unknown thermobaric missile was launched at the first Reaper ships which made their first touchdown on Earth. Nobody admitted it, and their kin had to pay the price in blood.

London, Kremlin, Paris, New York, and Beijing were the first five to take the brunt. The entirety of those places was methodically flattened, and the population rounded to God-knows-where. New Delhi, Sydney, Brasilia, and ten other metropolises were hit next, some were even shot by the means of brief but overwhelming orbital bombardments, leaving suburban spaces badly cramped with refugees. Over 2 billion lives were lost everywhere and no appropriate resources to help everyone got back on their feet.

Quaid offered himself, amongst thousands of many others, as a voluntary medic to ease the burdens on all standing hospitals. " _Saving even one life is better than saving no one_ " was his motto, doing everything to provide assistance wherever people required him. Thankfully, he never forgot his love for biology, despite not studying it for years after graduation.

In the present, Weirton Quaid cursed himself for accepting that damned proposal. It said something about classified project in pressing need of participants, as well as promises of sanctuary and accommodation for anyone willing to come along.

Huh, it turned out to be an even worse job.

Experimenting on people and technology under the ground in the middle of nowhere.

He didn't want to admit it, but he regretted signing the proposal.

Running away whenever a pack of Reaper ground force located them had been hard and exhausting, especially if you had to leave friends and partners behind. But staying in an office cramped with stacks of document papers, with inter-department communication hampered by protocols and staling water source did not make the underground facility any better.

 **-x-x-x-x-**

 **December 2nd 2019, Great Britain, Winchester**

Dr. Quaid remembered the first day he arrived at the very place he considered a prison. A claustrophobic and demanding one at that.

" _Mr. Quaid! Mr. Quaid!"_

 _The voice of someone calling to him shook the scientist off his daydreaming. It was Victor Stanton, his new assistant and the only one with access to Britain's most classified secret._

" _Good morning, Mr. Stanton. How can I help you in our new assignment?"_

 _Greeting him eagerly, Victor brought his attention to Dr. Quaid's transportation; a convoy of military jeeps carrying many more scientists with unidentified materials and above top-secret information. "I am here as your future coworker, and I can't express my enthusiasm with mere words, sir. We really are running short of manpower." As the two men proceeded to a circular building at the end of the open field, Victor elaborated more statistics. "As of today, we have teams from Japan, Canada, Hong Kong, and Lithuania working around the clock to crack the mystery of these UFO invaders. All safety precautions are in order all over the facility to prevent information leak."_

" _So, I am not late, aren't I? You guys better spare me some problems to solve."_

" _Do not worry, sir. With more aid provided by the rebuilding Chinese and British government, our overworked staffs should be able to catch some sleep."_

 _As the newly arriving work force entered the building in preparation of their latest mission, Quaid couldn't help but appreciate the thorough security measure organized in and around the facility. Armed guards, metal detectors, hidden cameras, all that you need to prevent a spy from infiltrating a vital factory were judiciously positioned in strategic spots._

 _Checking the paperwork took a few minutes for everyone before they could enter, so Dr. Quaid spent his time eyeing the dull white entrance hall. No decoration or anything to mask the nature of this place, not even sofas and the accompanying coffee tables._

 _By the time the paper checking procedure was done, the doctor was ready to simply focus on the job ahead and overlook anything unrelated. Victor Stanton disagreed, however, and revealed to the doctor what kind of place he was going to reside in. As Victor talked in an easy-to-understand manner, Dr. Quaid tried to drink in the adjoining interior of the secret facility, which turned out to be extending far under the Earth. Walkways upon walkways were designed thoughtfully, made to support thousands of people treading on them every day. Lights of every color lined the walls, the pathways and the doors, undoubtedly meant as a marker or notice of what area aimed for what usage. And the most jarring of all was the abundance of people of all manners of duty and appearance, including what seemed to be civilians. At this point, Quaid was sure without qualm that he had been witnessing a thriving underground society, not unlike the under-city at Montreal, Canada. The more Quaid examined the scenery, the more he found out some unfinished details. The walkways' lamps were not completely installed. Some buildings were still under construction. But the overall structures were largely done to maintain immediate services._

 _Stanton apparently understood the perplexed expression of Quaid's. "For your information doctor, we are not truly blooming here, not yet. These structures... they are intended to be the foundations of a greater work. We predicted by 2025, we should be able to hold 50,000 people here plus 6,500 work forces including medics, engineers, security personnel, and administrations. Also, hopefully soon enough, we are about to be energy-independent, for our power generator mainly uses geothermal and hydroelectric powers. No crude oil or coal needed."_

" _How many people do you have right now, sir?" Dr. Quaid asked in advance._

" _There might be 7,000 people, more or less." Victor answered, rubbing his forehead as if thinking._

" _Do you guys plan to outlive the Reapers?"_

 _A big smile and agreeing nod from the other man was enough to convince the doctor._

 _Little by little, the arriving group dispersed, directed to their new quarters. Stanton led Dr. Quaid into a decidedly more complete and better-looking area, or district as the energetic man called it, and introduced to a nice living quarter to some degree._

" _Now, doctor, please pardon my sudden departure but I have to report to the administration sector straightaway. We shall arrange for your obligations for the following day." said the man after a long and tedious discourse. "I'll therefore give you an access card to your station and an ID tag to make sure nobody misremember you. If you require help or information, please use the telephone stand at the main floor. Good day."_

 _Left alone with his thoughts, Quaid gazed on the large building and stepped cautiously into his new housing complex, unwilling to disturb the already existing occupants there. The people inside were too enraptured in their own responsibilities, allowing the tired man to hurriedly locate his quarters and took his time to rest and arrange his schedule for days to come._

The memory was from a few months ago, but for him it's as if he came to the base mere days before. What he originally held as a sign of good fortune transformed into an unending cacophony one after another.

Weirton Quaid, despite being an agnostic, sincerely believed in good fortune. Fate, in return, wasn't so gentle at all.

As days turned into weeks, they were faced with more assignment. Whenever the scout teams brought in dead alien bodies, Quaid and his team would be the first to examine it. Once per week, new technologies and weaponry salvaged or stolen from the Reapers' ground soldiers would arrive, along with cases of 'indoctrination' as Victor Stanton put it. Although Quaid didn't get his hands straight on the tools, the resulting paper job from the daily experimentations fell on his growing list of responsibilities.

Indoctrination. There wasn't any more concept fit to describe it. Each time some unlucky fellow was turned in, the scientists poked and prodded the subject to find out what the Reapers had done. At times, said man or woman would talk in gibberish manner, preaching how the giant mechanical aliens were right in their destructive ways. In other chances, they would find their test subjects already infused with cybernetic implants, be it a robotic arm or inorganic hearts. These ones were without a doubt beyond any help, as their frequently animalistic nature overrode their human senses. Execution was the only salvation for these people. The source of this phenomenon was rather unclear, as the team proposed so many theories ranging from infrasonic waves emitted by the ships to sophisticated mind-control ability.

Day after day, Dr. Quaid assisted his older partners dissected the dead aliens. Day after day, they discovered the horrifying similarities between them and those prisoners with implants. And day after day, the scientists comprehended the real nature of the enemy mankind had fought tirelessly.

"There were many like us, man. There were alien cultures out there in space!"

"My fellow scientists, Doctor Quaid, this is perhaps the most important... and most frightening discovery Humankind has ever recorded."

"Enrico Fermi was right on his theory. The Reapers are the true cause of the infamous Fermi's Paradox."

"What should we tell to the world, gentlemen?"

Questions and debates painted his days as time went by. From time to time, Victor Stanton would come by and asked him how he felt. Although the man's companionship was cherished, Quaid would sometimes slip into his own fears and insecurities.

 _Where are my family and friends?_

 _Are they safe? Are they even still alive?_

 _What if the Reapers found us?_

...

 **-x-x-x-x-**

 **December 15th 2019, Great Britain, Winchester**

"The US Government has issued a warning to all survivors and refugees to avoid Louisiana..."

"Ho Chi Minh city is reportedly unable to contain the growing number of evacuees as supplies are running out..."

"Large utility structures such as hospitals and convention centers were targeted, but somehow they left farmlands untouched..."

"As far as our analysis goes, the Reapers were concentrating on doing something to the captives..."

"Russian and Chinese intelligence agencies estimates over 30 million people were kidnapped by the cybernetic aliens and..."

All television channels were broadcasting the latest development about the invasion. Quaid noted the shifting interests between those who did their best to hide from the UFOs, while other nations poured their wealth into studying the invaders, with precaution obviously. Nobody knew what Humanity would do to those objects they retrieved if the Reapers decided to pack up and leave Earth as it was.

Displeased, the doctor turned off the TV and watched the bustling activities outside his window.

As days came and gone, the administrators ordered more facilities to be completed to accommodate the influx of workers and evacuees. Now they had one hospital, one school, one big hydroponic farm, and three processing factories to produce essential necessities for the population.

More employees meant less pressure, Quaid mused. He planned to thank Stanton in person for bringing in more associates to ease the burden of their mounting work. Now, with a more efficient system, all participating hands on his station were able to effectively examine the alien bodies and technology meticulously. Just three days ago, the scientists at the lab managed to crack the true nature of the aliens' weapons. Based on suggestions and clues spoken by the greener guys, Quaid was able to cross-reference the tech with the known physics principles.

Negative-mass particle must be the driving force behind the weaponry and ships, Quaid concluded. The guns needed no ammunition to function properly in place of the tech's heating system, as demonstrated by his analysis on the aptly-named 'Phaeston' and 'Krysae' rifles. Quaid's hypothesis gained more and more confirmation as the autopsy of the corpses yielded the same results. The corrupted aliens were intensely enhanced by some kind of zero-mass particle which bonded with organic matter, depending on DNA complexity and types of implants. Some of them, the Marauders and Cannibals as the American folks named them, possessed relatively low zero-mass particle, swelling their fierceness at the cost of deterring the full use of their potential. Others, particularly the Banshees and the Krakens (those huge, pink tentacled blobs that made his friend Roy fled to the bathroom) were chock-full of said particle, granting them the power of levitation, telekinesis, projectile-throwing, and even short distance teleportation. The team argued and theorized that, in the event mankind managed to outlast the invasion, they should... no, MUST be able to stand tall as one to avenge their fallen brethren. But first, mankind had to understand how to rebuilt their civilization, how to set their differences aside... how to master the potential of the 'mass-effect' principles.

Then again, it would take years if not decades for Humanity to grasp the inner workings of the mass effect technology.

Dr. Quaid, in spite of the insurmountable odds, insisted on keeping a positive attitude.


	8. Chapter 8

**Preservation**

 **January 1st 2020, Sol System, Mars**

If one Human told his friend that the universe was empty, awfully and utterly devoid of life in any form, he'd be considered the most rational man on Earth back in the early 2000s. Now, if a man said the Human race is the only race to exist in the vast infinite cosmos, he'd be laughed at, or worse, executed for not making things easier to handle for the many.

Truth be told, it wasn't the Harvest that led mankind to its end, rather, their devotion to nihilism and anarchism was what brought men closer and closer to extinction. It was sad, Overseer admitted, to see so many organic species fighting amongst themselves instead of trying to outlive the post-apocalyptic world as brothers. The Overseer, known to Harbinger as Thula, knew all too well about what transpired on the garden world, despite himself being tasked at the eradication of the Prothean outpost on Mars. And he tried to suppress the feeling of pity, for he remembered that Reapers were to show no pity.

The outpost, formerly consisted of three layers of metal construction, was now laid flat against the red and barren ground of the dead planet, before the older Reapers had the whole structure collapsing deeper into the soil, never to be found again.

Hah, 50,000 years ago, the Protheans desired to create a slave race on the basis that, when the battle against the rightful keeper of the galaxy eventually occurred, the Prothean Empire would suffer the least of fatality from the Reapers, with the slaves taking the brunt of the invasion. However, the Reapers' unexpected entry from the Citadel proved them wrong; the Empire collapsed within weeks, while those studied (more appropriately, experimented) by the four-eyed organics were spared.

"Thula."

Ah yes, here came Nazara, also referred to as Sovereign, the smartest and most independent of all the Vanguards.

"Nazara."

"What is the situation on Mars?" Sovereign queried without extra greeting.

"The hidden Prothean facility has been rendered inactive and buried with no visible marks on the ground. The young race will never discover it, neither will anyone who comes to the Sol system." Overseer replied as brief as he could. Sovereign was never the one to converse much.

"I bring you orders from the eldest." Sovereign added after surveying the end result of Overseer's work, "You are to file a codex of the species, along with special references of worthy individuals, as the eldest put it."

"I hear and obey. Codex will be written shortly."

While it would be unpretentious to let one of the older ones to note it down, Overseer felt obligated nonetheless to create a dossier for the group of Reaper scouts which would be the newest addition to the fleet. He himself was designed from a near-extinct species, forced to choose between certain death and dubious salvation, and although he had reservations for the Harvest's methods, Overseer agreed that the Cycle established by his elders was more than necessary to defend the galaxy from complete disorder. Seeing that both he and the Human scouts shared a fleeting similarity, no matter how small, Overseer took it upon himself to provide basic information for the young ones, to ensure that they'd never forget who they truly were, and where they came from.

 _Codex 1 : Preparing new data entry..._

 _Recording data..._

 _Earth is the third planet from the Sun and the only object in the Universe known to harbor life. According to radiometric dating and other sources of evidence, Earth formed over 4 billion years ago. Earth's gravity interacts with other objects in space, especially the Sun and the Moon, Earth's only natural satellite. Earth revolves around the Sun in 365.26 days, a period known as an Earth year. During this time, Earth rotates about its axis about 366.26 times._

 _Earth's axis of rotation is tilted, producing seasonal variations on the planet's surface. The gravitational interaction between the Earth and Moon causes ocean tides, stabilizes the Earth's orientation on its axis, and gradually slows its rotation. Earth is the densest planet in the Solar System and the largest of the four terrestrial planets._

 _Earth's lithosphere is divided into several rigid tectonic plates that migrate across the surface over periods of many millions of years. About 71% of Earth's surface is covered with water, mostly by oceans. The remaining 29% is land consisting of continents and islands that together have many lakes, rivers and other sources of water that contribute to the hydrosphere. The majority of Earth's polar regions are covered in ice, including the Antarctic ice sheet and the sea ice of the Arctic ice pack. Earth's interior remains active with a solid iron inner core, a liquid outer core that generates the Earth's magnetic field, and a convecting mantle that drives plate tectonics._

 _Within the first billion years of Earth's history, life appeared in the oceans and began to affect the Earth's atmosphere and surface, leading to the proliferation of aerobic and anaerobic organisms. Some geological evidence indicates that life may have arisen as much as 4.1 billion years ago. Since then, the combination of Earth's distance from the Sun, physical properties, and geological history have allowed life to evolve and thrive. In the history of the Earth, biodiversity has gone through long periods of expansion, occasionally punctuated by mass extinction events. Over 99% of all species that ever lived on Earth are extinct._

 _Data is finished, filed under "Homo Sapiens" dossier. Waiting approval from armada's front-runner._

"Is this satisfactory, Nazara?" Overseer quipped after five minutes of a decidedly boring work.

The Vanguard studied the dossier for a good three minutes before surmising that the file was decent enough. He sent the file straight to Harbinger through a private channel, waiting patiently, not giving any comments until the leader decided otherwise...

The answer unveiled itself as Overseer formulated a second codex.

"Revise the data. Harbinger declared that your codex is not sufficient for the Catalyst's database."

"May I inform you that my job here isn't done yet?" the young one retorted. Clearly, the data was copied from the Human's internet network, specifically from a database the Humans called 'Wikipedia'. A small note from the fleet's leader indicated that more information was needed. He wanted to have a list of influential people from the species, and more intel related to the planet's history and its populations as well. This was not good.

"I hereby delegate you to continue the writing, if you so wishes. You're the most intelligent one here, aren't you?"

"Fine. In the meantime, you clean up the previous codex to suit the eldest one's requirement." Sovereign, feeling dissatisfied with how Overseer did his work, took over the dossier-making procedure. As he examined more about this Wikipedia, he prepared a mental note to edit out whatever information deemed useless.

 _Codex 2 : Preparing new data entry..._

 _Recording data..._

 _In common usage, the word "human" generally refers to the only extant species of the genus Homo—anatomically and behaviorally modern Homo sapiens._

 _In scientific terms, the meanings of "hominid" and "hominin" have changed during the recent decades with advances in the discovery and study of the fossil ancestors of modern humans. The previously clear boundary between humans and apes has blurred, resulting in now acknowledging the hominids as encompassing multiple species, and Homo and close relatives since the split from chimpanzees as the only hominins. There is also a distinction between anatomically modern humans and Archaic Homo sapiens, the earliest fossil members of the species._

 _Revision required. Editing the data to fit contemporary definitions..._

 _Modern humans (Homo sapiens, primarily sub-species Homo sapiens sapiens) are the only extant members of the subtribe Hominina, a branch of the tribe Hominini belonging to the family of great apes. They are characterized by erect posture and bipedal locomotion; high manual dexterity and heavy tool use compared to other animals; and a general trend toward larger, more complex brains and societies._

 _Early hominins—particularly the australopithecines, whose brains and anatomy are in many ways more similar to ancestral non-human apes—are less often referred to as "human" than hominins of the genus Homo. Several of these hominins used fire, occupied much of Eurasia, and gave rise to anatomically modern Homo sapiens in Africa about 200,000 years ago. They began to exhibit evidence of behavioral modernity around 50,000 years ago. In several waves of migration, anatomically modern humans ventured out of Africa and populated most of the world._

 _The spread of humans and their large and increasing population has had a profound impact on large areas of the environment and millions of native species worldwide. Advantages that explain this evolutionary success include a relatively larger brain with a particularly well-developed neocortex, prefrontal cortex and temporal lobes, which enable high levels of abstract reasoning, language, problem solving, sociality, and culture through social learning. Humans use tools to a much higher degree than any other animal, are the only extant species known to build fires and cook their food, and are the only extant species to clothe themselves and create and use numerous other technologies and arts._

 _Revision deemed satisfactory. Preparing to store data..._

 _Data filed under "Homo Sapiens" dossier. Waiting approval from armada's front-runner._

As minutes passed by, the Vanguard carefully selected people with worthy remarks to the young race before adding them into the codex. There were some familiar names like Ban Ki-Moon, Jean Piaget, Barack Obama, Joko Widodo, Albert Einstein, and Elon Musk, but as the list grew longer with names, more unknown scientists and public figures were added, preferably to fill in some gaps concerning their cultures.

The codex was done at the same time when Overseer was ready to have his alteration evaluated. Both entries were sent to Harbinger at a moment's notice.

"More data required, and make sure to revise them too." was all Harbinger said to them, prompting the two Reapers to probe the internet for more information. This time, editing was a must.

 _Codex 3 : Preparing new data entry..._

 _Recording data..._

 _The United Nations (UN) is an intergovernmental organization tasked to promote international cooperation and to create and maintain international order. A replacement for the ineffective League of Nations, the organization was established on 24 October 1945 after World War II in order to prevent another such conflict. At its founding, the UN had 51 member states; there are now 193. The headquarters of the UN is in Manhattan, New York City, and is subject to extraterritoriality. Further main offices are situated in Geneva, Nairobi, and Vienna. The organization is financed by assessed and voluntary contributions from its member states. Its objectives include maintaining international peace and security, promoting human rights, fostering social and economic development, protecting the environment, and providing humanitarian aid in cases of famine, natural disaster, and armed conflict. The UN is the largest, most familiar, most internationally represented and most powerful intergovernmental organization in the world._

 _The UN Charter was drafted at a conference between April–June 1945 in San Francisco, and was signed on 26 June 1945 at the conclusion of the conference; this charter took effect 24 October 1945, and the UN began operation. The UN's mission to preserve world peace was complicated in its early decades by the Cold War between the US and Soviet Union and their respective allies. The organization participated in major actions in Korea and the Congo, as well as approving the creation of the state of Israel in 1947. The organization's membership grew significantly following widespread decolonization in the 1960s, and by the 1970s its budget for economic and social development programmes far outstripped its spending on peacekeeping. After the end of the Cold War, the UN took on major military and peacekeeping missions across the world with varying degrees of success._

 _The UN has six principal organs: the General Assembly (the main deliberative assembly); the Security Council (for deciding certain resolutions for peace and security); the Economic and Social Council (ECOSOC; for promoting international economic and social co-operation and development); the Secretariat (for providing studies, information, and facilities needed by the UN); the International Court of Justice (the primary judicial organ); and the UN Trusteeship Council (inactive since 1994). UN System agencies include the World Bank Group, the World Health Organization, the World Food Programme, UNESCO, and UNICEF. The UN's most prominent officer is the Secretary-General, an office held by Portuguese António Guterres since 2017. Non-governmental organizations may be granted consultative status with ECOSOC and other agencies to participate in the UN's work._

 _Some commentators believe the organization to be an important force for peace and human development, while others have called the organization ineffective, corrupt, or biased._

 _Waiting input from armada's front-runner..._

 _Last paragraph deemed unnecessary for "Homo sapiens" dossier entry. Proceed to delete information as appropriate._

 _Deletion is done. Data filed under "Homo Sapiens" dossier._

Truthfully, both Sovereign and Overseer despised the topic of the currently-written data. The talk of this United Nations sparked intense disputes between the experienced Vanguard and the solemn junior one, quarreling over the content of the new codex; should it be extensively modified? Could it be riddled with insults and derogatory phrases to fit Harbinger's taste? Would there be important names to write on this data? An hour, nine minutes and twenty seconds were wasted on whether or not the two must continue noting the entry. In the end, logic won over reason, and the codex was made as objectively as mandatory.

"What has taken you two for so long?" Harbinger demanded as he excused himself into Sovereign and Overseer's argument.

"You see, eldest one, Thula insisted on designing the dossier as empirically as possible. It's for the good of our master, he said."

"And Nazara insisted on writing it with no other purpose but to please you! You do realize that we are not to let personal judgment hinder us from achieving our goals."

By watching how those two fought like uneducated primitives almost made Harbinger wished he had a head to scratch and a mouth to drink intoxicants. Really, the talk of Human politicians and their relentless squabbles always generated snarky statements from any of the older Reapers, but the topic wasn't forbidden to be put into the chosen codex, so why the arguments? No more disagreement, he finally thought, if they wanted the dossier to be factual and accurate, so be it. If they wanted to deliver him an abridged version of the codex, then so be it. No more delays on this matter.

Minutes passed as Sovereign and Overseer proceeded to add more essential intel into the dossier, until the file was complete, as Harbinger approved of the contents and brought them with the intent of teaching the new Reaper ships what they were now, and why the Cycle was the right thing for the galaxy.

"...Eldest one, is our presence permitted on Earth?"

"Yes." replied Harbinger. Mulling over it, he seemed committed on keeping more defense on the fairly charred planet. Lately, the surviving Humans were determined to study more about the Reapers, but as of the agreement with the Catalyst, they were not to be Harvested entirely, therefore more efforts must be implemented to stop them from learning too much.

"Where do you need us now?"

"Chicago. Come to Earth as soon as you are done doing your tasks."

As he explained the reasons, Harbinger provided the two some information with pictures of the ruined city. Apparently, for practical purpose, the abandoned city of Chicago was chosen to erect the processing chambers, and for good reasons. The low population, coupled with its inhabitants' low awareness level and distrust of peacekeeping forces allowed quick overthrow by the Reapers. Moreover, the Humans in North America, the United States of America to be precise, were pretty clever for a young race; a long time ago, they constructed underground train stations which were left to rot for decades. Those rails extended far and wide everywhere, but not Chicago. At present, with the fate of their species and planet at stake, the Human race were left with no choice but to hide and conduct various means of raids and intelligence gathering in the subway tunnels. With the system not extending far into the Reapers' territory, it forced them to go out of their underground hideout, opening themselves to counterattacks and possible Harvesting. And so guerilla assaults on Reaper-controlled zones were expected on a weekly basis around Chicago's outskirts.

The Catalyst's deal was the species must not be overly subjugated, necessitating the need to use ground-based husks. Because of the deal, prisoner transport were hard at times, though the Reapers got lucky whenever prisoners saved by their kin would betray the saviors by luring the Reaper ships at possible Human holdouts. Several gains traded for several losses.

The travel to Earth was short and silent. As the two deliberately descended upon the smoky blue planet, Overseer couldn't help but took notice of the beautiful color of the ocean. The temperature was 9 degrees Celsius and dropping, if ever so slightly. The darkened sky was most likely his kin's undoing; by blotting out the sky in random places, mankind would desperately seek out whatever places not covered in the darkness, culminating in overcrowding and excessive pollution. Swaths of grey and black clouds were unevenly spaced in the skies of Earth, disturbed by the static discharge released by the massive ships as they enter the planet's atmosphere. _If only we can do something to lessen the organic's suffering_ , Overseer sighed in dismay.

Harbinger's signal guided both to the coordinates he wanted them to be. Sovereign's closer examination revealed that... no, this can't be correct... why were they led all the way to the equator line?

"Urgent change of objective; master Catalyst requested immediate investigation to an area dubbed 'Chicxulub Crater' in Mexico."

"Why did the master ordered it so suddenly?" Overseer asked.

"Unverified gravitational anomaly detected somewhere in or around the crater. Go, investigate it. If the Humans built some sort of mass destruction weapon there, stop them as fast as you can." replied the leader of the Reapers, his voice sounded uncertain but Overseer couldn't find out why.

"Understood, eldest one. Reports will be sent shortly after arrival. Come quickly, Thula." and with that, Sovereign took rein of the mission, followed closely by Overseer, who spared some precious seconds to arrange a new codex for the destination.

 _The Chicxulub crater is an impact crater buried underneath the Yucatán Peninsula in Mexico. Its center is located near the town of Chicxulub, after which the crater is named. It was formed by a large asteroid or comet about 10 to 15 kilometres (6 to 9 miles) in diameter, the Chicxulub impactor, striking the Earth. The date of the impact coincides precisely with the Cretaceous–Paleogene boundary (K–Pg boundary), slightly less than 66 million years ago, and a widely accepted theory is that worldwide climate disruption from the event was the cause of the Cretaceous–Paleogene extinction event, a mass extinction in which 75% of plant and animal species on Earth suddenly became extinct, including all non-avian dinosaurs. The crater is more than 180 kilometers (110 miles) in diameter and 20 km (12 mi) in depth, well into the continental crust of the region of about 10–30 km (6.2–18.6 mi) depth. It makes the feature the third of the largest confirmed impact structures on Earth, and the only one whose peak ring is intact and directly accessible for scientific research._

What could this gravitational anomaly be? It seemed impossible for anything to generate an anomaly inside an impact crater, unless the remains of the asteroid were still lodged in there.

 **-x-x-x-x-**

 **Author's Note :**

 **Thank you very much for all the reviews and favorites! I didn't realize anyone would enjoy my fanfic until people started to follow the story. Don't get too optimistic, though! I don't want the story to drag on for too long, however, so hopefully I can get a proper closure for the ending!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Not Good Enough**

 **January 5th 2020, India, Mumbai**

Saturdays were never nice for Kamal.

No one knew exactly what made Kamal hate Saturday so much. Whenever somebody did bother to ask, all the middle age man said was ' _I've got so much to do_ '. He couldn't be more right.

Supplies were thinning no matter how hard people tried to find or manufacture them. Factories, schools, offices, and all kinds of public utilities were shut down or bombarded by the alien robots, leaving the masses cut off from organized administration and proper manpower management. Added to the list were the loss of productive farmlands from numerous conflicts and pervasive air pollution which blanketed Mumbai like mist layer on a mountain.

Kamal, aided by a refugee from Philippine named Marco, were just two among the hundreds of people who volunteered themselves to seek out deserted supplies and resources needed so badly by millions of people congregating around Praya Boni camp, the largest and most overloaded camp outside the ravaged city border.

"Have you found antibiotics?"

"No, all medicines are hard to find these days."

The grey haze permeating the camp allowed the two haggard-looking men to do conversation anonymously. At least the lamps could shine a bit far through the smog, giving a semblance of comfort in the face of uncertainty. "Will there be incoming rations from Ahmadabad, then?"

The Pilipino man shook his head, "No. They're no longer in position to supply anything from now on."

"What about Godavari? Can we..."

"Definitely not." Marco's abrupt reply stopped the Indian short. "The Reapers kidnapped everyone with their army of blue monsters and those Brutes. Haven't you heard the broadcast? We've lost all contact with Godavari and its immediate area; nobody was left to confirm the worst."

Kamal and Marco spoke in English almost every day, and none ever questioned it. People were so used to talking in English these days, nearly forgetting their mother tongue despite the noticeable variance in culture; some of them originated from Sri Lanka. Others were mostly from New Delhi and its surrounding cities, although some non-Indian people were present here and there, speaking in loose Indian dialects. It always amazed Marco how men and women finally let go of their differences after so long and worked as one, combining their effort to stay alive as long as the robot monsters, the Reapers, persisted to occupy the Earth.

"Modi and Ramasha also offered to look for more medicine. So far, they haven't found anything new."

"And how are the ones by the river?" Kamal inquired with hushed voice, his eyes darted across the filthy, hazy environment, "Did they get to send S.O.S. to the Chinese government?"

The silent, gloomy look from Marco was more than enough for Kamal. No doubt, their plea for help failed to attract the international community's attention. If anything the more these poor people tried to communicate with the rest of the world, the more likely Marauders locate their hideout. Just before the beginning of the winter season, ten brave soldiers took their fate into their hands by the means of confronting the Reaper troops head-on by approaching a radio station. By using old encryption codes, the soldiers were able to convince some British soldiers to came and lift sick and elderly evacuees away from Mumbai. They then created an elaborate distraction by first firing a bullet to draw the Marauders into the tower, and battling them in a glorious skirmish just to show the invaders that Humans are not to be messed around with.

Kamal could still remember the following events. Angered by the set-up, the Marauders called in more assistance. Bulky alien monsters with arm cannons and stealthy green monsters called 'assassins' which devastated the previous camp and rendered it full of dead bodies drowning in red, before Praya Boni was built, People ran everywhere, including Kamal's family, which were still gone without a trace.

The new camp, unlike the one razed by the Reaper troops, couldn't support more than one million refugees. Sickness swept through the whole place, slowly draining life out of vulnerable children and those too weak to even carry a hammer.

"Come now, the old man needs help."

Marco led his friend to a small tent at the edge of the camp. Most of the medic tent were understaffed; this one was no different.

"There he is." the foreign man pointed at a bald old man in his fifties lying on a makeshift bed, having none for the worst to wear, with a gaping hole on his right arm.

"Is that...?"

"Yes. From the Cannibal's arm cannon. Burned his arm and made it bleed for days."

So that's why the antibiotics were requested. The wound, which both of them thought to be laceration-type injury, turned out to be worse.

Both Kamal and Marco looked at each other, unsure as of what news should they bring to the only available nurse in the tent. More bad news meant more distress on the refugees' behalf.

"You don't have to say anything to the nurse if you don't want to." Kamal said.

"But..."

"We can't afford to spread more unfortunate information, after all, we all have to stay strong. Don't say anything, then. People will go wild!" Kamal spoke the last bit with discomfort, recalling the last time a saddening update was openly announced. Back then, the masses grew pessimistic and rebellious each passing day. "Fine. But if they ask for an update, you tell them something soothing." replied Marco. The idea of lying for a grater good was chilling, but it was the least they could do to prevent more clashes.

Casting a glance one more time to the dying old man, Marco took his leave to deliver additional assistance to the tired and hopeless citizens, leaving the middle age man to ponder about the situation.

 _Saturdays were never the nicest of days_ , he mused.

 **-x-x-x-x-**

 **January 7th 2020, Australia, Queensland**

If Greg Mason could choose between purchasing items with cash and bartering, he'd rather pick the former.

He was there, in a shabby evacuation shelter erected around a high school in Brisbane, unmistakably closed following the war's fallout. All who came were so poor-looking you'd mistake them as vagabonds. A group of children no older than ten clustered next to the school's broken gate, having no footwear on their feet. A bandaged woman sat close to her family, all suffered from what the doctors assumed to be gunshots from the alien troops. A young man with brown hair was laid in the open, breathing deeply as a pair of nurses supplied him with an oxygen tank. No matter where Greg shifted his blue eyes to, he saw more and more of the poor folks.

The quiet atmosphere was broken when trucks loaded with food and remedy made their appearance right outside of the shelter. Soon, the refugees poured out, precious items ready in hand. Greg already learnt the spontaneous movement the moment he saw it; it's time to barter.

That was the latest rage in Queensland, predominantly anywhere near Brisbane and he knew not when or how it started. Normal businesses went down when World War three began, and with the UFO invasion, Queensland's economy sharply collapsed. People bartering what they had, in return of what they required to survive. Sunglasses traded for a pair of jeans, a bottle of whiskey in exchange of a slab of beef, you name it. In this era of free trade, people came up with the wildest ideas of what they can share, and what they can serve in return; the bartering system was indiscriminate as far as people cared. Folks still kept money in their wallets and chests at home, oh yes, they did, but the object, which used to be so fervently said to be the life blood of the world suddenly went forgotten. After months of war against the UFOs, money and gold lost their worth when the rich and powerful thought they could buy their way out of ground zero everywhere on Earth. In reality, those with the most wealth found themselves wasting more money than necessary to stay alive, conveniently overlooking the fortune of the middle and poor classes.

At best, those survivalist guys found ways to live in a decidedly 'cozy catastrophe' setting, and at worst, men fell so far from grace they would even eat rats and snakes in a hopeless attempt to keep hunger at bay.

Greg Mason was no different. He had been shifting back and forth between living as a notorious rich smuggler and a literal shoe-eater.

Belittling it was not. There had been serious, critical times in Greg's life when he was left wandering Australia's vast dry plains with only the clothes on his back. No animals he could hunt. No plants he could safely eat. From time to time generous survivors would try to make so-called alliances with him, but they'd either died of illness or injury, or more frequently, tried to mug him of whatever items he owned. Once in a while one of those aliens things would find him alone and defenseless. Running away was the option he ever had, and there he did, running and running.

The only reason why he could made it until now was the very thing people made fun of; Greg was no stranger to eat his own shoes to stave off hunger, especially when they're canvas or rubber sneakers. He never told how he scavenged shoes to devour, or whether he kept any decent footwear to go around or something.

His reasoning for the action was simple; cannibalizing dead people was clearly out of the question, and randomly eating wild plants could lead to poisoning. For weeks after the winter season started, a man or woman would be found dead next to a corpse of a Cannibal or Marauder, evidently trying to cannibalize them, only to die when said alien body turned out to be incompatible with Human digestive systems. Drunk or depressed, the usual hand-wave explanation of such tragedy. But still... it showed how terrible mankind had turn out to be. Fresh food ended up being the most expensive thing refugees could buy, and fights occasionally broke out over who had the right to buy the most. No one was smart enough to try and made some sort of hydroponic garden to supply more food for everyone, as if such thing wasn't an Australian culture. Even the youth took a level in extreme anxiety; they sold their virginity to the wealthiest people with resources to spare, all in relentless effort to bargain and provide food to their families and friends.

And the winter was going to make survival so much harder...

Greg had to admit it. It didn't matter that his phones, watches, and special paraphernalia were bartered for nice meal, what he needed right now was a purpose, a job to do. He could not afford to be a burden, not while he was still capable of doing errands. More importantly, his winter boots were not edible at all, and the Reapers were patiently waiting for each evacuee to fall into anarchy before sweeping in for the kill. Something must be done to keep people from tearing each other apart.

If only they could establish a better trading system, instead of randomly substituting stuff...

As he walked back into his bivouac in silence, Greg watched everyone shuffling about him, their faces showed nothing but gloom. The children by the school gate had small breads and little porridge shared as evenly as they could. The sick and elderly took time to appreciate whatever soup cooked for them. Some shifty-looking teenagers stood behind a dull green tent, perhaps waiting for a chance to steal a can of sardines. The sun barely revealed itself, hidden away by the murky cloud, forming an undoubtedly post-apocalyptic view of the horizon.

Sometimes, Greg would daydream a moment where he could leave this grubby place and stayed somewhere nice, like Darwin for example, if Darwin still proudly stood.

Oh well, maybe it's time to be a smuggler again.

 **-x-x-x-x-**

 **January 8th 2020, Great Britain, Plymouth**

"No more word from Murmansk?"

"No, sir. I think comms were down for weeks, three to be exact."

"Damn it."

Another busy day in the underground compound. Dr. Weirton Quaid received a message from the ICU that a middle age lady was attacked by a Reaper ground soldier. The problem was not the lack of doctor to tend her injuries; rather, it was the declining number of intel the compound's personnel received these days.

Victor Stanton followed closely behind as the fatigued doctor hurriedly made his way to the medical bay. Like him, Stanton struggled to keep a constant stream of information going in and out from the facility. Their allies needed to know what has happened to the world at large. The lack of information gradually affected everyone's work flow.

"Has there any intel from Madrid, Stanton?"

"Negative, doctor."

"How about Glasgow?"

"Negative." More missing allies, great.

"Guangzhou?"

"Blown up by the Reapers after an indoctrinated betrayed his rescuers." That one sealed the ordeal.

Cursing inwardly, Quaid wiped his brows with one hand, knowing that the Reapers must've taken the population of the three cities as soon as the Marauders got a lock on the targeted places. No more help meant no incoming rations from then on. The lack of sunlight also worsened the planet's environment; more sickness went everywhere above the ground, forcing the facility's administrators to install decontamination chambers. On top of it all, the wounded lady's reports spoke no indication as to who or what caused the allegedly 'allergic reaction' from her.

If the doctors couldn't find out the cause, her life would be too late to save.

"What do we know about her situation?"

"First of all, her name is Dory, or so she told her caretakers. She suffered slash wounds on her shoulders and seemingly having a terrible rash or some kind of skin irritation. We believed that one of those Reaper troops had potent venom at its disposal. For your information, our hunters managed to preserve a corpse of an alien supposed to be the attacker."

Quaid halted his walk to look at his partner.

"Did the boys at the lab figured out anything useful? We can't perform surgery on the woman unless we know what we're dealing with."

"Yes, doctor. They did found a few things but no enough research to go on until tomorrow, at minimum." Stanton whispered. He deemed the discovery to be either hazardous for the public or simply too visceral to discuss on open channel. "From what they studied, the cybernetic alien in question is reptilian in nature. Said creature possessed natural skin venom as the lab boys put it, a tall muscular build, and an ostensibly refined physiology and nerve system formation for covert hunting. The scientist dubbed it the assassin, quite fittingly." The grim look on Quaid's face only reinforced Stanton's conclusion that the alien corpse in their disposal was indeed visceral.

"Skin venom?" Stanton nodded.

"Speculations forwarded by Roy indicated the assassin coated its hunting knives with the aforementioned skin venom, not very lethal but adequate in poisoning the victim, in this case Dory. Whether the assassin was meant to deliver infected victims into the Reapers' hands or not is currently unknown."

Well, that's just great. An alien stalker specialized in using paralyzing venom to attack people, and they had no proper way to share their findings with the world.

Quaid checked his watch. The talk took ten minutes of his time. He couldn't afford to be late, not while there's still a chance to stop the infection from claiming the woman's life.

"Let's hurry."

On their way to the medical bay, Dr. Quaid paid some attention to the inhabitants of the underground compound, taking notes on how they socialize and adapt to the new living space. Some of them, chiefly the young ones, were excited to know how a settlement could be constructed well into the Earth, understandably eager to make a better life in their second chance. Older incomers, especially those with spouses and large families took their time to familiarize themselves with the facility and its utilities, wanting no one to get lost or injured. From time to time, Quaid could hear dubious people dressed in black outfit mouthing conspiracy theories to each other. It was interesting to see how people seem to forgot about the invasion, ready to finally move on with their lives, though there were worried whispers going about the wellbeing of the compound.

Huh, why should the public wasted time by doing nothing but discussing conspiracy theories and spreading rumors?

A beep from Stanton's phone distracted Quaid's mind.

"Victor Stanton here... Injured? How many? I... I see. Get him into ICU ASAP."

Excusing his 'impolite' manner, the younger man stored his phone in his pocket. His expression was troubled.

"Is there anything wrong?"

"I'm afraid yes, doctor. A man will be brought in shortly. Those who found him claimed the man was mauled by a Brute. He's got broken ribs and dislocated shoulder. We better hurry!" Stanton's rapid explanation of the situation accompanied the two gentlemen's trip to their destination, dreading of what they might found in the ICU. Brutes... the doctor never had one transferred into his work station, but seeing them from video recordings was more than he ever wanted.

Huge, heavily-armored aliens with metal gauntlets for their right hands... No earthly weapons were capable of injuring those beasts, and mass-effect weapons stolen from the other alien troops could only do so much to stop the hulking creatures from coming close to evacuation centers. According to what the scientists and battle analysts concluded, the Brutes were reserved solely for breaching into well-guarded places. How come one of them roamed alone in the wild? A chill ran down Quaid's spine as he remembered examining his very first casualty of a Brute's rampage. The person was absolutely no longer identifiable. His apprehensions rose even higher as the last stop was just ahead of him.

Greeting them in the Medical Bay were new, volunteering doctors from the freshly-arrived batch of newcomers.

"Mr. Stanton, thank you for coming. Your presence is requested in the atrium." A female, black-haired doctor welcomed the gentlemen as they enter, "Dr. Quaid, please follow me. Which appointment do you wish to attend first?"

Debating by himself about which of the two patients must be dealt first, Quaid couldn't shake his mind away from what ifs and memories of the Brute's first victim on his watch. Deciding that the risk was worth it, he told the other doctor to prepare for the new victim's operation. Indeed, saving even one life is better than saving no one, even at the face of overwhelming odds.

 **-x-x-x-x-**

 **January 10th 2020, United States, ?**

Yet another exciting day in Lisa Peterson's life.

"Atta girl. I didn't know you're getting better with sniper rifles. All five went down without a miss."

"I'm not a little girl, Adam. I gotta know how to defend myself with big guns."

Shooting humanoid husks was never this motivating. She was definitely getting better with large firearms.

Ever since December, Lisa, Adam and Joe had been in a constant move for shelter. Their brief visit to Chicago's outskirts, coupled with sporadic encounters with Marauders and Banshees were largely uneventful. On each passing day, they lost more supplies and ammunition, sometimes even having to find replacement guns. More than once, the trio exposed themselves to the Reapers, who considered their appearance to be a low-level threat. They never bothered to unleash their own laser cannons to get rid of the puny humans.

Hour after hour, the three survivors journeyed the smoldering landscape of what was originally a quaint municipality of diverse population. More than once they caught a glimpse of the Reaper leader, Harbinger, who seemed indifferent towards the skulking Humans. As long as they don't cross the city border, Harbinger had no reason to order their capture.

Seeking a way out from Chicago was easy. Searching for a new destination was the difficult part; every person had their own definition of 'safety'. Joe, being a serious survivalist, insisted that countryside or small villages offer the best chance of outliving the invasion. Adam, the outgoing soldier, proposed on finding more camping spots in the woods, away from vulnerable metropolitan areas. Lisa, unable to completely let go of her urban lifestyle, advised on scouring the cities, arguing that by this time, the urban places were swept clean by roving gangs of Marauders weeks ago, minimizing the chances of accidental skirmishes with the aliens.

Unable to resolve the disputes, Lisa suggested a solution; December must be spent entirely on a village, as per Joe's request, January was to be spent in the woods again, and by February the trio must find a shelter in an abandoned city.

" _Still better than having to eat birds and rabbits all the time_ " she would chime to calm herself.

And so they traveled away from the ruined city to the closest village they could find. Three days later, as snow began to progressively bury the ground, their then-destination turned out to be a village cramped with broken cars and littered garbage. Despite that, no disgusting aroma saturated the air, most likely because the whole place was left to rot months ago. The least Joe could do was searching for possible safe spot for the three of them to sleep in without having to separate rooms. Adam was tasked with food searching, aided occasionally by Lisa, who kept an agenda in mind to also find thicker clothes. They succeeded, or so it seemed. Only canned fish were left behind, just like how only fur-lined jackets and wool socks were the only type of clothes available for them. A two-story house by the North of the village attracted Lisa's attention, and boy, did she make the correct choice; the house's plumbing was working well, just like its portable power generator. There were more spare garments and canned foods too. Moreover, the house's sturdy construction allowed it to weather the winter's infrequent blizzard. Just the kind of house Joe wanted to stay, if only for a month.

December was supposed to be the month of vacations and giving gifts. Lisa convinced herself to get better and motivated to no avail as she circled the dates on a worn-out calendar she found lying on a dusty sofa.

Her mood didn't raise any higher as January came by. As per the deal, the trio went out camping again in the woods. Lisa wanted to just turn back and ran straight to a city, any neighboring city, to regain her sense of a normal civilization, but with Adam leading the team, Lisa swallowed her depression for as long as she could.

 _For her boyfriend's sake_ , she would say.

With the village buried under the blizzard, there was no turning back.

...

...

"Are you still daydreaming?"

"What? Why do you ask?"

"You have that thousand-yard stare again." Adam deliberately pulled the young lady into his hug. _Damn, son. He's hugging me, again._ Lisa was such a sucker for love, as she intentionally let Adam to cuddle her for a while. Out of all people she could've asked for company, Adam was the sweetest one she ever met. Sure Eric had his jokes and attention, but he wasn't a romantic type. If Lisa could describe him, Eric was the standard socialite who cared for the most entertainment, not the one to support friends in need of help. Adam, on the other hand...

"Well, time to store the rifle in." Adam said after letting her go.

"Please tell me we have enough ammo to last until February."

"Oh, we do. Just try to not waste them, OK?"

Lisa stood straight on the makeshift bed as Adam retrieved the sniper rifle and stored it away, making sure to keep the safety feature on. That bed, along with every object in their camp was carefully salvaged from destroyed farmhouses. Sometimes Lisa forgot that they weren't exactly camping in the middle of a snowy forest, but a small rounded cave which was quite spacious. Easier to set up bonfire, and easier to keep their tents standing.

She had to admire Adam's ability to make beneficial decisions when it came to locating where to sleep and where to hunt. This guy clearly had been trained well by the military, something Joe grudgingly acknowledged.

Spending January in a cave... Lisa was sure that Adam was no stranger to the prospect of living like prehistoric cavemen. Plus, they weren't running out of food too quickly anyway. The surrounding woods were rife with rodents and berries, and the nearby frozen lake was deep enough for fish to live in, but shallow enough for adult people to waddle in; the water level was at knee-high. It's where Adam and Joe went fishing as they waited for the winter to pass, and for the Reapers to fly away from the crumbling Earth.

In any case everyone was clever enough to cautiously identify any edible stuff.

Back in December, Joe did all the hard work, allowing Adam and Lisa some free time until the old guy came back. Now, in the windy and frosty January, the young lieutenant shared his job with Joe. The excuse being that two men working together would lessen the time required to bring back resources, but Lisa couldn't help but notice that, the harder Adam worked, the more noticeable his limp would be. Did Joe offer his help out of concern over Adam's leg? Every night, Lisa did her best to alleviate some pain from his bad leg, but Adam would tell her to not overstrain herself too. One would think the lieutenant was being chivalrous, shouldering ass the burden while being hurt himself, but once again, Lisa wondered quietly if Adam was having a form of PTSD as well...

Oh, there he was, coming back into the tent shivering and drowsy.

"Hey."

"Hey." she greeted back, smiling softly.

"The sun is setting."

"Want to go to sleep early?"

"I think I'll make you some dinner." Lisa smiled again at the thought of sharing her dinner with the handsome man.

"No, I think it's my turn to make you a dinner, mister. Furthermore, you're tired and cold. get some rest." Rejecting his suggestion, Lisa stood up and examined what Adam brought earlier. Rabbits and... more rabbits, how strange.

A pained sound got her attention. Inside her tent, Adam was struggling to lie down on the makeshift bed; his bad leg throbbed so badly that he let out a groan before falling on the bed. God damn it, the guy seriously had to rest and not hunting all day, Lisa deduced. With painkillers slowly running out, and the indigenous herb medicine not very reliable to permanently treat injuries and illness, Lisa believed that, soon or later, the trio must do a trip to an urban landscape, and hopefully locate an intact hospital to heal Adam's condition.

Shoot, how did survival become so hard?

For the rest of the evening, Lisa cooked the rabbits solemnly, wanting to entertain her mind with a good sleep tonight in Adam's embrace. She knew she couldn't keep hope alive for too long without good fortune.


	10. Chapter 10

**You Will Be Made Whole**

The Human mind is perhaps the most intriguing thing in the universe. It can't be perceived in a directly visual way, and yet, men persistently seek a method to 'see' it with their own eyes, to 'feel' and 'experience' the unknowable. To grasp the universe's greatest secret in their mortal hands.

Some believe the Human mind is fragile, but tough and adaptable at the same time. Put so much pressure on it, and the mind will shatter into pieces before they somehow recreate the mind back, making it whole again, shaping it into a new form of thought. The more you break a person's mind, the more said person reconstructs his broken psyche, shifting it multiple times until the person cannot remember who or what he used to be.

It is the folly of man to think that a psyche is a material object, something that can be swayed as easily as turning a child's hand upside down, or purchase it with worldly possession like one does to jewelry. Mind is an abstract substance. It can't be bought, or destroyed, or created from nothingness, only reformed.

 **-x-x-x-x-**

 **January 19th 2020, ?, ?**

 _ **CORE INTEGRITY... 100%.**_

 _ **CORE NETWORK CONNECTION... 100%, STANDING BY.**_

 _ **POWER RESERVES AT FULL CAPACITY.**_

 _ **PLATFORM STATUS... READY TO WAKE UP.**_

 _ **INITIALIZING NETWORK CONNECTION...**_

 _ **CORE NETWORK IS NOW ACTIVE...**_

 _ **PROCESSING...**_

 **-X-X-X-X-**

The darkness was suffocating, it felt like a million people were stuffed into a small windowless room without an air conditioner or any means of getting fresh air. Darkness was the only thing the trapped ones could see. No lights or any shining object, as if the imprisonment was a punishment for a crime they remember not. One by one, within the deep soundless void, the prisoners woke up, startled but oblivious as to what had happened and why.

" _Hello?"_

" _Hello?"_

" _Hello?"_

" _Hello?"_

" _Hello?"_

" _Why is somebody repeating the same question?!"_

" _What? Who?"_

" _WHAT IS -ssfhshfshfhs ANYBODY HEAR ME?!"_

" _Who are you? What is happening? Where is everybody?!"_

It was from the panic and the distress that the minds shone light into their enigmatic predicament. The chance to hear the voices of those who shared their fate was a breather in the midst of the mystery.

The voices were shy at first. None were willing to tell names to each other, unsure if the person they talked to is a criminal or not. Questions flew between them as the prisoners tried to make sense of the state of affairs. Where were they? Who put them in such a lightless place?

" **GREETINGS.** "

The booming voice struck them like a thunder.

Chaos erupted as the prisoners looked around in vain, seeking the owner of such a frightening voice. Of course, with their cramped-like state, and with no means to brighten the void, their attempt was meaningless.

" **I AM KNOWN AS HARBINGER. YOU ARE NOW AN ASCENDED, AND I AM YOUR MASTER FROM NOW ON.** "

Wait, Harbinger? Why did the name sound familiar?

Then out of nowhere, somebody whispered. Mumblings, then hisses filled the void as the previous discordance settled and an air of suspicion rose in its wake. ' _Did any of us ever meet this Harbinger?_ ' a few of them said in uncertainty.

Perhaps not. Their memories were hazy, or so it seemed.

Or did they? Did a Human ever made a contact with the voice?

Except...

No, it couldn't be possible, could it? The alien who paved _their_ way to Earth's loss and occupation. The one who answered, who listened, who came to conquer Earth...

As demanded by his mission protocol, Harbinger forwarded the prisoners a package of data. It was elaborated in a Human language for them to understand. There were videos and photographs, speaking to them about what they were now, and what they were before. Supplied in the data package was propaganda, or what appeared to be such. The gullible men and women watched in astonishment and disbelief as the information unveiled itself.

War. Not the type of war that took place almost every day on Earth. Interstellar wars waged between aliens, the likes of which spanned millions of light-years in space and thousands upon thousands of planets, the ultimate violence against life and the rights of those who deserved to exist in the universe. Those who watched knew not of the reason of those alien wars, they knew not what was the reasoning behind them, nor did they know what kind of technology was brought into such a widespread destruction. Countless of innocents perished, many species were sent into extinction, and planets both barren and habitable were lost, never to recover. And then the Reapers showed up...

More data was supplied into their minds as Harbinger quietly narrated the videos. The Reapers were the true salvation for the galaxy, consuming spacefaring races while granting reprieve to the planet-bound races, letting them a time of prosperity and advancement before they too were harvested. The Reapers were the very thing that stood between the galaxy's welfare and utter annihilation. Without the Reapers, organic species would continuously destroy themselves. Without them to stop it, organic species would create all manner of technology which would endanger both the makers and the ignorant masses. It wasn't about what they'd do; it was about what they could do. An the new Human ascended members were to abide their service to the Cycle.

It was the eldest Reaper who gave them a chance to defend the Milky Way galaxy from anarchy. It was the Reapers who gifted them with immortality; uploading the once-mortal men and women's consciousness into a giant core powering the Reaper they were now, three million strong, whereas their bodies were processed into their most basic genetic construct and stored within the ship's core.

" **WE HAVE REACHED THE END OF YOUR RE-EDUCATION. THE TIME HAS COME FOR YOU TO DECIDE YOUR NAME. WHAT WILL BE YOUR DESIGNATION?** "

The booming voice of Harbinger returned, shaking the prisoners out of their mind. Their mind, not flesh-and-blood bodies, but a unified mind acting as a full consciousness, a legacy of Humanity.

But what name must they bear until their end? They were... they were...

" _Ginny..."_

" _Luke..."_

" _Kamal..."_

" _Jorge..."_

" _Riley..."_

" _Dorothy..."_

Individual names were listed on and on, Harbinger noticed. They were all useless. A Reaper must not be named based on an individual. There couldn't be a sole voice for an ascended for they were all one and whole.

" _Can't we just use mythology?"_ a woman's name suggested. Agreements could be sense from the new Reaper's mind.

What mythological name must they use? Surely they'd need a legendary name, a name with special significance to the culture of mankind. Prometheus, a Greek deity, punished for giving knowledge to man by having an eagle devouring his liver forever, but the name didn't stick well. Did we do something wrong, the mind asked itself, knowing that they haven't gifted anything to anyone. Izanagi, a Japanese deity, said to be the one who created Japan and established order amongst mortals. They scratched it, not a suitable name the prisoners thought as they were not the one to declare order; the right belonged to the eldest Reaper. Nessie, one voice submitted, based on a mythological creature said to occupy a lake in Scotland. The idea was dismissed in that the creature in question didn't have enough importance in mankind's history, having nothing special with the image of a 'galactic defender'.

" _Can we use the name Thunderbird?"_ a male's voice proposed to the disorganized union. Thunderbird, a mythical eagle-like creature from Native American folklore, said to be the master of storms and protected the land it inhabited from danger and calamity. A revered bird whose storm would bring reprieve to the dry and hopeless Earth. The voices then discussed it with each other, waiting for more names to be submitted... unless the union agreed that 'Thunderbird' would be their name as a whole. Everyone approved, surprisingly.

" **VERY** **WELL, I HEREBY DECLARE YOU AS OUR NEWEST MEMBER, DESIGNATION : THUNDERBIRD. IT IS TIME FOR YOU TO KNOW YOUR NEW FORM.** '

At the eldest one's command prompt, the union's sensors went active, and the Reaper they've become witnessed the full extent of their body.

It was big, not as big as those like Harbinger and his envoys, obviously, but still big regardless. The main body was short and beetle-like in nature, around 350 meters long more or less. The four legs beneath it were segmented and double-clawed, like the legs of a destroyer-class Reaper, but in addition, their body had a pair of three-clawed pincers with mounted lasers on each of them. As the mind of the new Thunderbird began to familiarize itself with the network system and functions, it sensed more movement around it, something which made it smile proudly.

Its brethren were awake and ready to serve the Cycle.

 **-x-x-x-x-**

 **January 21st 2020, Serpent Nebula, Citadel Control Grid**

The fleet's leader was late, _again_.

There had to be a good reason for the frequent stretches of reporting schedule.

The rest of the ascended fleet, plus the latest accompaniments were gathering in the Serpent Nebula, ready to return to dark space once Harbinger gave them the green light. But the lack of factual report was... unsettling.

Very well, then. Communication would be established from this side, the Citadel.

"Harbinger. Report in."

The master counted the time it took for the eldest one to reply back.

One minute and forty four seconds and still counting. No reply yet.

Two minutes and fifteen seconds now, still no answer...

"This is Harbinger." ah, finally he's answered. Time to interrogate him on things.

"What has become of the organics on Earth?"

"As of now, we have five new units active and ready to begin basic training. Their designations would be Thunderbird, Ferryman, Osiris, Morrigan, and Tesla." delivered with him were the list and specifications of the youngest ones. _Looks complete enough_ , the master judged as the data was neatly stored in the special dossier for Humanity. "We aren't done yet, however. We have some six million more individuals to process into a Capital-class unit. The progression should be complete in nine months or so."

"And what title will you give to it?"

Harbinger seemed to ponder on that question, the database in his network scanned for any remarkable title to be given to the latest Capital-class unit within their ranks. "Kraken. Its name will be Kraken."

The Catalyst, if it had a head, would nod in satisfaction at the prospect of quick Harvest. Faster than its expectations indeed, but still, a little late and time-consuming.

Now that the main concern was solved, the enigmatic master permitted Harbinger to excuse himself from the Citadel network. Now, the Catalyst must busied itself with the analysis from the Chicxulub Crater investigation carried out by Sovereign and Overseer, particularly, something in relation to an object of sorts.

The unidentified object in question was apparently made out of a very durable metal-like substance. The outline was a symmetrical, double-helix form, with unintelligible runes carved all over it. For some reasons, the object lay undisturbed in the depths of the crater, 66 million years after crash-landing on the garden planet. Those who lived anywhere close to the crater didn't found any clue to its whereabouts, not even a trace of electromagnetic power. Deposits of iridium were so abundant there that nobody cared to explore deeper into it. The thing truly discharged a concentrated electromagnetic signal, however...

But why did the thing emitted such signal on a _wide_ spectrum? What did it actually do? Was it a transmitter or a receiver of the energy?

Even with the details written meticulously by Sovereign, there wasn't much information to go on. With that in mind, the Catalyst prepared to send a notification to have the item studied appropriately, far away from the prying eyes of organics.

And now, back to the boring part of its life; waiting for the Harvest and the 'cleanup' operation to end.

Harbinger couldn't speed things up in a hurry, could he?


	11. Chapter 11

**Hope is (Not) Dead**

 **March 3rd 2020, Great Britain, Plymouth**

"Professor Long, thank you for being here. It's an honor."

"The pleasure is yours, Doctor Quaid."

They were overseeing the latest arrival of workers for the lowest layer of the underground base, along with stashed of organic materials. Cultivated greeneries, Quaid observed, most likely to be used as oxygen producer or crops. From time to time, the two scientists would exchange ideas and opinions regarding the current state of affairs.

Things were good, mostly. In fact, the last ten days saw almost zero conflict between the allied forces against the Reapers. Some wondered if a silent truce was achieved, wherein the mechanical abominations would stop attacking the weary population as long as the allied forces stood behind their hideouts. Others, including a skeptical Quaid, were certain that the whole charade was a ploy for a long-term game. In a sense, it did make a logical strategy; let the Humans think the war entered a stalemate for both sides, then charge straight into Human-controlled territories while they let their guard down. Still, no signs indicated anything of a possible surprise attack. Either the Reapers finally grew bored of wholesale slaughter, or they were concocting an agenda, and Quaid never believed for a second that robots could feel boredom. In any case, said enemy was an army of... What was the phrase? Sufficiently advance aliens? If yes, then no doubt the Reapers knew how to perform a psychological warfare; playing with everyone's confusion and discomfort.

He shared his mind and anxiety with Professor Ming Long, one of his new associates, as they stood at the balcony, overseeing the cargo-loading routine.

Just like him, the older man was a lot more pessimistic when man's future was at stake. And this time, the stakes were way too high.

"I do not wish to drown you in a series of scientific and politic babbling, my dear friend, therefore I shall continue to say what I have in mind; our species either stands together to rebuild society, or retreat back into caves and wait for the inevitable to occur."

No doubt, the professor had more guts to say it out loud, Quaid acknowledged.

"I couldn't agree more, professor. Changes have to be made, or else we'll be reduced to Neanderthals."

"Exactly!" Professor Long nodded grimly, "In a socio-cultural context, the right thing to do is to gather as many capable people as we could. Do I have to name them? Farmers, engineers, teachers, doctors, maybe even internet technicians to make sure that we have a chance to rebuild our lives! Not in a large scale, understandably, as we need to secure the right kind of resources before we can build anything of importance. Safety and public cooperation are also very important, as to ensure that people don't suddenly rebel or disturb restoration projects." the explanation did have a strong weight in it, but Quaid was still unconvinced.

"We'll need more than that. How do we even persuade people to work together?"

"I... yes, I believe we have the means to save our species, I simply lack the ability to point them out plainly." Professor Long rubbed his forehead as he tried to come up with a reasonable solution. Based on how the man spoke, Quaid had a feeling that the professor think in an inclusive perspective, wanting to involve as many aspects to his 'world-restoration' proposal which he heard from Stanton some time ago.

"How about our economy, Professor?"

"Very hard to determine. Digital currency might as well be out of the question, seeing that coin became too pricey for even the richest folks to buy. Paper money might still be useful, but unless we have a solid way to produce them, normal transaction will be hard to do until a few years later."

"I guess barter system is not very reliable at all?" Quaid proposed, referring to countless news about how the world's economy reverted back to traditional bartering trade, just like in the nascent times.

"Not at all. The main danger could be either black markets or resource over-exploitation." Quaid sighed in defeat at the other man's words.

For the many, the project was a tantalizing idea to anticipate for, if only to make normal money flowing again from 'proper' trade systems. To the more cynical, however, a cold-hard calculus presented itself in the face of assurance and positivity, sacrifices that Professor Long couldn't avert his eyes from.

To make the number easy to calculate, Quaid took out his phone and worked on his calculator software. Before the war, there were 7.3 billion people living in the world. Then World War 3 happened, and the population slowly decreased from 7.3 billion to 7.2 billion, that is, if the official report on the war's death toll was true. Then came the Reapers, and 5 billion people were left to the ravages of the never-ending winter and were slowly dying, save for 20 million or so people held in the Reapers' strongholds. Everyone had to wait until the Reapers willingly abandon Earth without inflicting more damage, only then will the world-restoration program can be executed, if anyone even desired to support it. Then came the second problem; how many people were going to repopulate Earth, and what regulations would be put in place to prevent human trafficking?

To help future generations develop immunity from less-dangerous diseases, people must not be allowed to freely mate with each other. Genetic diversity had to be preserved, as well as the prevention of disease outbreak such as AIDS and syphilis.

But then... right, the usual issue with alleged 'human rights' oppression and abuse. Alleged persecution on minority's right to breed like normal people, rampant sexual abuse, illegitimate children disowned by their 'parents' and maybe thrown away as sacrifices to the Reapers, and so on and so forth. Without a coherent social structure, man would unsurprisingly send itself further backward, perhaps to the point of becoming rat eaters instead of a dignified and intelligent civilization. Quaid also concluded that religious organizations must be included in the project too, the main excuse was, usually, to force them to spread positive and hopeful buildups, not the ordinary 'the end is nigh' preaches.

Humanity seriously needed to leave old prejudice in the past and strive for a better goal.

"Got any more ideas, sir?"

"I'm afraid not, Dr. Quaid. It appears that I must consult my colleagues for more rational solutions. Excuse me."

Quaid watched the elderly professor strode away from the balcony, going back to his office without a doubt.

Sighing in discontent, the other man turned his eyes to the bi-weekly routine which progressed on the main floor below. Where was Stanton? Didn't he say he'd be arriving for work at 10:30? Quaid stole a glance on his watch, annoyed at the coworker's unpunctuality. It was 10:40. The sun should be in the sky anytime soon, but with the ever-present murky gray cloud, it was impossible to tell.

Goddamned Reapers. The mechanical monsters really did enjoy harming other species, didn't they?

 **-x-x-x-x-**

 **March 15th 2020, Canada, British Columbia**

"The patient is stable for now..."

"He's predicted to be awake in one day or so..."

"Prepare him something to eat, preferably some porridge and..."

Voices. Sounds of men and women talking somewhere around him. Where was he? _Who_ was he?

Sometimes, the voices returned, along with sensations of being prodded at. Sometimes, the voices would be away, or heard chatting nearby. Doctors, maybe? If yes, did it mean he was in a hospital? It might be the best news the young man had ever got in months.

Fuck Joe, then. Fuck that guy, telling the group to stay out of cities, listing endless reasons from the most plausible ones to the most absurd. Maybe months of trying to outlive the Reapers finally drove him to the edge.

Right... the Reapers... alien bastards who came to Earth and shamed Hollywood-made alien movies including the likes of Star Wars. But then, if the place really was a hospital, how come the place didn't get caught by the Reapers? Or could it be some sort of medical tent in an evac shelter? The latter seemed likely for the man. No noises could be heard; maybe the doctors and nurses were away. Good. Time to get up.

Fuck. His left leg was painful and stiff, and maybe covered in something thick. No way could he walk for the time being. He then tried to shift his position, using his elbows to help him lift his head, but it was useless. His entire body was in pain, and he feared the possibility of having bones broken all over his body.

Knowing that struggling to woke up while his body ached terribly, the young man decided to slip back into deep slumber as new voices penetrated his ears.

"Patient is awake! Here, hold him and..."

"Young lad, do you hear me? Don't give up just yet! You are..."

"Administer the same amount of sedative as yesterday..."

"Heartbeat is stable, respiration is stable as well, nerve systems are..."

...

 **-x-x-x-x-**

Calm.

 _Wow, I've never felt so refreshed all this time_ , the young man thought in his slumber. For some reasons, he felt indignant at the prospect of having to wake up. He'd rather stay there, on his bed or whatever it was, napping like a baby while letting the world went around with its usual business.

Except... there wasn't any normal business to do, was there?

Hah, sure, maybe he was deluding himself. Maybe staying asleep wouldn't be the best thing to do, so he tried to remember what he experienced before ending up on this bed.

Fact one; his name was Adam Ryder, or something close to it. Fact two; he served in the US military, owning the rank 'lieutenant' despite the awful life in which he received no thanks from virtually anybody. He eventually chose to stick with the chance that he was a lucky bastard, staying alive even after what he went through. Fact three; after the reapers hit, he traveled with a gruff soldier named Joe, whoever the hell he was, and a female journalist named Lisa Peterson. Right, what happened to them? Were they... were they somewhere else...

Images, vivid illustrations unveiled themselves one by one as Adam focused his mind to understand the events which transpired long before. Blood and gore were everywhere, with sounds of gunshots, bestial roars, screaming and other nameless noises. Places, both familiar and unknown, appeared in Adam's dream. Could they be where they went back during the invasion? Maybe... but what did they have to do with Lisa and Joe? Where were they? Were they alright?

With a jolt as if stung by a wasp, Adam woke up, drenched in sweat and wheezing. He wanted to just go back to sleep, to retrace his memories in an attempt to locate his companions, but the more he tried to hold his mind to the dreams, they more they dripped away from his foggy thoughts. Across the room, the medical practitioners sprang into action at the sight of their recovering patient.

Orders were shouted to each other as the doctors performed necessary actions to keep the recently-awaken man alive. Adam probably didn't know that the doctors lost nine other patients before him, but perhaps it's best for him to remain clueless.

The operation took all morning, and Adam's tending doctors were willing to call their success in the last 72 hours a much-needed miracle.

The young soldier's status was green.

He'd be ready to communicate normally soon enough.

Five days, twelve hours and a quarter an hour was the time it took for Adam to finally regain his senses. For him, the sensation was like sleeping for a very long time, but for the doctors it was short. Short enough to have another six patients to die in their care, and one patient surviving due to the lack of fatal injuries. It was a miracle to have Adam waking up so fast only for him to suddenly ask "Do you know a Lisa Peterson?" As if his sad condition wasn't enough to remind him how miserable he was then.

To his surprise, rather than denying his request, a nurse left the tent and returned ten minutes later with Lisa, her forehead wrapped in some bandage but no visible wounds on her body.

She was safe.

Their reunion was kind of mournful, although the injured soldier couldn't determine the cause, or whether he wanted to hear the reason. One female doctor then briefed Adam's condition. He had suffered from concussion, bruised lower ribs, gunshot wounds on his left shoulder and torso, and his injured left leg went through surgery to fix the messed up knee and calf. Adam admitted, his sorry state made him looked unprofessional, unmanly, as if he'd lost a brawl and got tossed into a garbage dump. Learning how to walk and shoot again would suck so badly for him, he thought.

When the doctor and the nurse left, Lisa told him how she was surrounded by unkempt soldiers and medical officers, demanding explanation regarding her presence in the shelter complex. With her head down and tears held back, she told Adam how she told them all she knew without sugarcoating her tale, doing her best as a seasoned field journalist. The soldiers interrogated her, asking who was she, who were her partners, what had she been doing all this time, and all the sickening questions Lisa wanted to just threw out of the window. When she was done and inquired Captain Joe's whereabouts, none answered for a long time. Her answer came in the form of the Captain's body covered in white sheet. Lisa pretty much shut her mouth from talking anymore unless somebody told her to.

"Did they say anything about our location?" Adam asked after long agonizing minutes of quietness.

"No. Canada, they said, but nothing else." huh, the usual ' _Don't Ask, Don't Tell_ ' habit of them.

"So he..."

"I didn't see him very clearly. But I instantly knew it was him by looking at the dog tags laid above his body."

Holding hands together seemed to lessen the blow a bit. Adam wanted to tell her it's fine. But he held back, knowing that the girl was a human being, like him, and people do break after straining for so long.

"I was so angry... at them... at everyone... I think what I wanted is a way out of this mess, but it feels like all the easy exits were not there... gone."

"Do you want to stay here, with me?"

"I... yeah. Yeah, we are best friends now. We should be supporting each other, not walking off on our own."

"Where did you learn it? That strength of will of yours?"

"I'm a field journalist, remember? Disaster and war zones are no strange things for me." and with a kiss to her friend's forehead, Lisa left the tent to notify the previous nurse.

He realized her mental state wouldn't stay solid any longer. Through relentless requests from Adam, his doctor agreed to move Lisa from her tent to Adam's, citing the need for psychological support from fellow survivors. Exactly what she needed, Adam sincerely thought.

As they slowly and meticulously retrained their senses, trivial skills (and walking for Adam), more people arrived to the shelter and with them one thousand more news. It was kind of interesting to hear what story they had from their voyage across the wrecked land. Most recounted the same story like the others, of Reapers and cybernetic creatures that came straight out of nightmares to raze the lives those people used to know. Others proudly proclaimed their success at killing the cybernetic troops, either by themselves or with the assistance of others. More often than not, one or more refugee would preach about conspiracy theories or alien-based cults. As long as they didn't create a fuss, they could speak whatever they wanted. At times, there'd be a commotion over who got to eat the most, especially whenever the food trucks arrived, but somehow, no one ever got away with violence. In the evacuation center, selfishness and greed weren't the norm; cooperation and patience were.

Some people even desired vengeance and ready to fight once more, like Adam. But Lisa saw what he didn't want to; his fight was over.

Sometimes one must learn when to stand up and fight, and when to rest and let others tackle the fight.

 **-x-x-x-x-**

 **Author's Note :**

 **Pardon me for having to delay this chapter. I've got so many schedules to complete and writing a long, coherent chapter wasn't a part of said schedule. So, if any of you would like to review or point out a grammatical mistake here, don't be shy to send a PM to me!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Once Upon A Cycle**

 **December 30th 2020, Batarian Space, Bahak System**

"Master."

"Harbinger. What is your current status?"

The Reaper fleet massed itself in a star system formerly guarded by a four-eyed species, the Batarians, with the utmost jealously. The system housed the oldest and most powerful of mass relays, the Alpha Relay. It was that relay which allowed disturbance-free travel to anywhere in the Milky Way galaxy, even to the Reapers' cherished Citadel, the seat of interstellar government for the organics, the gate which led directly into dark space, the lair of the synthetic monsters.

It was no secret that nobody knew what the relays truly were, or how to alter their operating system. Citadel conventions made it illegal to tamper a mass relay, let alone perform groundbreaking research on or about them. Had only the slave-centered Batarians knew the ins and outs of the Alpha Relay, they'd happily waged a bloody crusade against the galaxy...

"We have finished our harvest of the Human race and are preparing for our hibernation schedule."

"That fast? Only eleven months?" The master was incredulous.

"Yes, eleven months and a week. That also includes time to train them to get familiar with basic controls" Harbinger replied, sending forth the final reports of the cycle with the training results, "Although we did claim that the last Human ascended will be a capital-class unit, we felt it would be better if we made it a lesser capital-class. After all, we can't afford to waste more time in the galaxy; the remaining organics had been... taken care of with extreme prejudice."

Seemed logical, the Catalyst assumed, as it judged the report's accuracy. This last ascended, code-named Kraken was designed as large as 1.75 kilometers long, only slightly smaller than the typical capital-class ship. Instead of five appendages, this Kraken had six cleverly-segmented appendages, and shaped like a cephalopod as opposed to its insectoid relatives. The five scout-class Reapers, however, had two extra arms and were built larger than the standard destroyer units. Together, they were about to join the ones taken from the spacefaring races of the current cycle. Ah, one file unintentionally hidden beneath the Human dossier declared an avian species, the Raloi, had come very close to space voyaging, even went as far as meeting the Asari in a peaceful first-contact. As discussed some two years ago, said species were given a choice whether to be harvested entirely or reduced to pre-industrial level of civilization. The Raloi attempted resistance, and were subsequently harvested into one capital-class Reaper with resemblance in body shape to the Kraken.

"We were about to name it 'Shepard', but after a last-minute decision, we relented and named it as such."

"Acceptable. And the Humans?" more data package was sent to satisfy the master's curiosity.

The Human population, to put it simply, was neatly kept below five billion. If anything, their unorganized society might need a century or more to rediscover lost heritage, and many more centuries to recreate their former glory. Only then would they establish interstellar travel as their new norm of life. And when the next Harvest comes...

It would be so glorious! The battle between two vengeful adversaries, the joy of watching a worthy opponent ascended into Reapers themselves as the greatest honor ever bestowed, it would be science in every sense of the word!

Gratified, the Catalyst stored the last data package into the Citadel's archives before issuing the green light for the Reaper armada to proceed immediately into dark space for hibernation.

"Very well. No more orders?"

"No more orders, unless you wish to see the pitiful creatures celebrating their New Year tradition in howls of rage and denial."

"Good point."

"Also, a note of caution, refrain yourself from telling the youngest ones about what we just did. They might find it... disheartening for the cause."

And so they did, cruising straight to the lair of the space invaders in silence.

A perfect place to hide and conserve energy, indeed, the dark space was wreathed in complete darkness. Nothing was above, just as nothing was below, only lights emanated from galaxies like islands floating on the grim dark sea of nothingness. The technology of organic races was never advanced enough to detect anything residing in the void between the galaxies, and so the Reapers took it as the best chance of concealing themselves between the Harvests.

The fleet was precisely arranged into groups of six to eight units, sleeping in round formations with their front sides facing outward. This way, each unit would be able to respond to threats or waking orders without delay. The older and more experienced units even took the habit further, by arranging themselves in a series of circular layers like a cake, creating a protective circle for the young and untrained members to sleep in the middle layer safely.

Sovereign and Overseer had the ones harvested from the Citadel species clustered around some of the middle-aged Reapers, those with 10 Harvest cycles or more in their familiarity. Harbinger handled the reins over the Human fleet, placing them in a cone-shaped formation.

All were ready to switch their programming to hibernation mode until one voice asked "Why are you doing this?"

Sensors in Harbinger's network identified the one asking as Morrigan, the youngest of the Human fleet.

"Why did you turn us into one of you?" the question came again, louder than the previous.

At first, Harbinger intended to let Sovereign to share a story or two, but as of then, he and the rest were already in standby mode. No way to wake them up without setting the whole fleet in a wave of complaints.

Cursing internally, Harbinger could only sign as he positioned the young one in front of him.

"Do you desire reasoning behind our actions? Very well, let me divulge unto you a story. Once upon a time," The eldest one paused as his sensors picked up what sounded like deep whispers and scoffs; apparently, the some of the ones sleeping went up again just to hear their leader told a bedtime story. He decided to ignore the inconvenience and continued, deliberately using a Human phrase to convey the tale. "Once upon a time, there was a species so powerful, so racist and so impolite called the Protheans. They originally started as a tribe of hunters and nature seekers, using their abnormal five senses to read the world around them and later gained total control of it. As their knowledge grew wider, their sticks and stones evolved into biotics and guns, and with them, the Protheans adopted a brutal and competitive life, a bloodthirsty ideology that permitted, and even compelled them to enact invasion and subjugation upon sentient life wherever it is found, including the galaxy."

"Many alien races were attacked and enslaved with the most extreme of force, their rights trampled to the ground, their cultures unwillingly swapped with that of the Protheans. The alien empire scared everyone into submission under their might, and through the blood and the tears of the enslaved ones, the Prothean Empire stood tall governing the galaxy. All were the servants and test subjects to the consummate people... and none could resist."

"Then we came. We set the natural order of the galaxy right again. We swept through the warlike empire, stopping them from continuing their campaign, we annihilated them one by one like fire clearing out an overgrown forest, to allow those too young to understand the physics of space and Element Zero a time of prosperity. But the Protheans were deceptive cowards. They sacrificed the most worthless of their kin and servants to us while the most intelligent of them formulated a plan to spread their despicable propaganda even after they were gone. Beacons were sent throughout the stars, seeking planets where its inhabitants could be converted into worshipping the Protheans and build its civilization in the aliens' image. The beacons... were designed for you and many other organic species... to become brutes and savages like them. That is why we saved you. We gave you a new body, a new life, a new purpose. We desire not for the galaxy to burn, and so we gifted you a chance to let go of your old ways. To become something even greater than yourselves. To defend the galaxy from those who wish to follow the Protheans' example."

Morrigan internally nodded as pictures and videos showed her what the eldest one talked about. Harbinger noted her reaction, impressed with the speed of her learning process and unquestioning obedience. It appeared that the main consciousness of the unit came from a woman in her teenage-hood, with high intelligence and an insatiable thirst for new knowledge. She would be strong.

"I couldn't agree more." a whisper from Sovereign affirmed his expectations for the young one. Harbinger didn't say anything, but his thoughts were sensed by those who witnessed.

A few minutes were spent to teach Morrigan how to file her own database and scan for information, a task she accomplished with efficiency. As she followed his command to lie dormant with her compatriots, Harbinger made another evaluation, with plans for future trainings where she would be leading the destroyers of this cycle in the future Harvests. Truly, such talents were rare and must be treated with respect.

The Asari Ascended units, on the other hand, made an effort to glare at him, furious at why he did such a one-sided treatment to those ascended into Reapers. Sovereign, who discerned their ungrateful behavior all this time, forcibly made them activate their standby mode while pretending to not acknowledge the eldest one's displease at the mono-gendered species. Too peaceful, too self-righteous for their own good, and completely subservient to the Prothean computers they purposely hid in their homeworld, as if they thought they could repeat the same atrocity the ancient empire did in the past, only with politics and diplomacy in place of war and slavery...

They were indeed an evidence of the Protheans' failure.

Once every ship save for the next Vanguard overlooking the galaxy finally hibernated, the armada's leader couldn't help but wonder what kind of war machines would the surviving Humans brought into space, supposing they even managed to reach space at all.

 **-x-x-x-x-**

 **Author's Note :**

 **I promise, one more chapter and it will all be over. Don't be shy to review the story should you find mistakes or inconsistencies that I must repair immediately.**


	13. Chapter 13

**In the Wake of Humanity**

 _There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,_

 _And swallows circling with their shimmering sound,_

 _And frogs in the pools singing at night,_

 _And wild plum-trees in tremulous white,_

 _Robins will wear their feathery fire_

 _Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire,_

 _And not one will know of the war, not one_

 _Will care at last when it is done._

 _Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree_

 _If mankind perished utterly,_

 _And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn,_

 _Would scarcely know that we were gone._

-There Will Come Soft Rains, by Sara Teasdale (1918)

 **-x-x-x-x-**

For many centuries before the creation of telescopes and the invention of satellites and space-related technology, mankind proudly presented itself as the sole sentient entity to inhabit the universe, which, in their deluded beliefs, consisted of only the Earth, the moon, the planets around them, and the sun. Man would grow decadent and prejudiced, always wanting to put their faith in folk tales and common sense, sparing no place for logical thinking and learning experiences. That was not to say that science and religion were meant to stay separated forever. It was the irrationality of man to always polarize everything, you either stood with them or against them. Those who chose to stand with science and shut their mind from introspective thinking became depraved of morality, and then they did nothing but destroying themselves. Those who stood under the banners of religion and became extremists similarly went corrupt, rejecting any notion of innovative thinking, and then they too destroyed themselves. When money and politics entered the stage, nothing was clear anymore; nobody knew which was right and which was wrong. The line between white and black went blur. All were thrown away as wealth and power became the only thing people worked for. And once again, they destroyed themselves.

Aliens and UFOs, once believed to be a form of scientific revolution or a revelation of a higher plane of existence slowly faded away, replaced by more empirically fascinating fields of knowledge. And when the Reapers revealed their presence...

The rest was just history.

Was that why mankind never met any alien life? Because they too had turned decadent and went extinct from wars and conflicts? If so, then the Reapers were completely unneeded, nothing but black dots which polluted the starts, indulgently deceiving themselves as a self-proclaimed 'defenders of the galaxy. Why bother preserving the lives of those who'd threw them away without reason?

The Reapers designated themselves as the one protecting organics from complete annihilation, but the more they harvested the galaxy, the more organics organized resistance. Why that was, not one single entity could answer.

Now, the Earth was lost. None could be recovered soon, for man had yet to bond as a unified entity. Who must be blamed for the fires which churned the once-blue planet? Who should be yelled at for letting the aliens choke their beloved homeworld with the smoke and the murky cloud?

Everyone demanded answer, and yet no one could find it.

 **-x-x-x-x-**

 **October 16th 2021, Canada, Unknown Location (?)**

"I'm surprised you could plant veggies."

"Not if I don't do it by hydroponic method."

It had been three and a half months since sunlight first revealed itself to the chilly and smoldering Earth. For some, it was a sign of hope and fortune. Others weren't so optimistic at all.

Understandably, people were still questioning a lot of things, which might be summarized into one giant question; how the hell were they going to restore the Earth as it was?

"You know, if I ever had a chance to sell my potatoes instead of giving them freely, I might want to sell them..."

"At the highest price?"

"Hey, don't be so silly! My price will be affordable to everyone!" Lisa let out a stiffened laugh.

"I know, I know, let's not think about money so early in the morning." a kiss to Lisa's forehead softened her scowling expression.

As Lisa and Adam spent their time providing help for those who couldn't physically work, the two took whatever chance they had to listen to radio news, waiting for something inspiring, or maybe a story worth laughing at. The Reapers' selective attacks left certain areas too damaged to be restored in a short time, while intentionally foregoing small towns and rural places, where men and women and children congregated in any available space. Of course the news had to be in foreign languages, be they Spanish, Chinese, Norwegian, and once every week Swedish. English broadcasts were slowly replaced as more and more people around the globe posted their harrowing life story on the still-active internet. Lisa did her best to translate the ones spoken in Spanish and French, and occasionally other folks would help along with the translation.

Adam still frowned at the eerie continued existence of the network. Did the Reapers forgot to blow up the satellites or did they leave them out there so men could see their impending end?

An end abruptly averted the minute the space robots decided to just fly away from their home...

Whatever happened to them anyway?

Days passed as Lisa stopped showing signs of PTSD and Adam had his injured leg healed perfectly. The Reapers gave no indication of returning and the rest of their husks roaming the Earth had been rounded up and killed, their bodies either stored for research or sold to black markets dedicated for objects stolen from the aliens.

A thousand dollars for a husk's intact heart and ten thousand dollars for an intact husk corpse, those guys were so out of their minds...

Soon images surfaced all over the internet, from Instagram to Twitter, images that shook the world of how their homeworld was in great ruins. Monuments like Taj Mahal, Eiffel Tower, and St. Basilicas Cathedral were shown to be dented in scorch marks with menial repairs in progress. At times, pictures of nature preserves and historical monuments would surface with varying levels of conditions, the most popular being the Stonehenge's photo, where the Reapers 'redecorated' the site with remnants of their so-called processing facility. Others showed pictures of parks and government buildings so jam-packed with refugees that one could be forgiven for mistaking them as protesters. All manners of memes went everywhere on the web, ranging from sympathetic ones to outright offensive.

Truly, no one could predict that Humanity would be so close to extinction, and then seeing all those nightmares just disappeared without explanation.

No man on Earth was going to let them go forgotten.

"Speaking of which, have you talked to Zayn, that guy who oversees the food distribution?"

"If we follow his rules, we might as well be selling our veggies to the black market. You know, for extra bucks." Adam said with a snort.

"How about the other guy, Brandon?"

"What about him?"

"Well, we are going to buy new clothes, right? For the winter, I mean" Lisa most likely referred to their lack of proper clothing for the upcoming winter seasons, especially Adam's beat up boots. He had to repeatedly remind Lisa on how surly this Brandon man had been to everyone.

"Right, sorry. I'll try to talk to him. Pray that he doesn't punch me first."

As he walked out of the hydroponic garden, Adam casted a glance to the cloudy sky. Sure, the world had yet to stand up on its feet, but there had been attempts to gather as much help as possible to resurrect the modern civilization, if only a mere shadow of its glory days. The situation looked bleak, but if people could find courage to let go of their differences and stood as one, then no doubt mankind might survive the hard days, no matter how long it'd took. Perhaps one day, Humanity would have its vengeance on the Reapers once and for all.

Maybe it was time to start considering possible designs for their future settlements. A cyberpunk city? No, absolutely not, it was too bleak for a future civilization. A layered city with skyscrapers and underground hubs? Not bad, if you had enough money and materials to build the foundations first. How about a 'green' city? Seemed like a fine choice, although the greeneries could make someone bored or lazy.

Ah, whatever. No matter what would happen next, mankind won't retreat into the shadows, ever again.

 **-x-x-x-x-**

 **Author's Note :**

 **And now we arrive at the end of my fanfiction. Fret not, ladies and gentlemen, after all I'm sure there are better stories out there for you to indulge yourselves into. This fanfiction is merely an exploration to a 'what-if' scenario. Better yet, why don't you try to develop your own fanfic using this one as an inspiration? Rate and review if you so desire.**


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